The Other Sforza Girl
by Mochassassin
Summary: Not many people know that Caterina Sforza had a younger sister, Chiara. When she gets tangled in the web of conspiracies, politics and deceit that is 16th century Italy, it is evident just how barbaric and savage the Templars really are. Secrets are brought to light, people are exposed and her whole life changes with the blink of an eye, but is it for the good, bad or both?
1. Chapter 1

"We're here, signora," announced the driver as he unlatched the door.

"_Grazie _(Thanks)," replied Chiara, stepping down from the carriage.

The sun beat down on her face ten times brighter than it had in Milan. She couldn't remember the last time she had travelled so far out from her hometown. Milan at this time of the year was cold but Monteriggioni's sun was smiling brightly. Even with nightfall approaching soon, it was too hot. She didn't have to be here but there was no way she could refuse her dying mother's insistence.

Carrying nothing but a tattered book in her hand, she walked through the grand stone fortress. One narrow path led to another and the more people she approached about her sister's whereabouts, the less they seemed to know. It didn't strike her as odd because almost every town she had been to said that her sister had passed some time ago. Now the subject of this town was the assassin, Ezio Auditore.

After what seemed like hours of asking people, she noticed a magnificent building standing gracefully in the distance. The villa outdid every other in the small town in terms of size. Chiara noticed a symbol of some kind centred beneath the two stairwells leading upwards but thought nothing of it except a pretty design.

Soft footsteps on the rooftop warned her that somebody was watching. Just as she had registered this thought, a loud swoosh came from the haystack behind, and a few strands of hay hit her face.  
Chiara turned around to be greeted by a pair of curious eyes.

"_Buongiorno, messer_ (Hello, sir). Would you kindly tell me where Caterina Sforza is residing?"

"What's your business with her?" answered the man in a tired tone. The bags under his eyes were evident on his bearded face.

There were beads of sweat bordering between his hairline and forehead under the hood. The scorching weather made it no surprise at all. He wore armour which shaped his body perfectly and Chiara's eyes shifted to the all the weapons on his body which on closer inspection, seemed to be plenty - throwing knives, a sword, and even a crossbow. He looked like a man who should've been approached with using caution, despite his good looks.

"I have a message to deliver to her from her mother,"

The man gave her a quick look up and down before asking, "Is it important?"

She despised the sudden interrogation from a stranger, but proceeded to answer as vaguely as possible.

"Yes. I have to deliver it in person."

He held out his hand. "You don't have any weapons on you, do you?"

Chiara impulsively looked down, even though she didn't have anything.

"None. Unless you count this old book. Though the cover is pretty hard when you think of it..."

A quizzical expression from the man made Chiara stop babbling and she simply shook her head.

"_Bene _(Good). She is staying at my uncle's villa. Follow me."

The man led the way through the crowds of civilians who had now gathered around him. They all greeted him like he was their saviour and then his name rang a bell when someone shouted a greeting to him.

"You're..you're Ezio Auditore? The assassin?" asked Chiara, curiosity alight in her eyes. She had heard so much about him. His desire for revenge on the men who murdered his father and brothers. Her father, the Duke of Milan was murdered by the same people. Apparently, his father Giovanni Auditore had tried his best to save him. That technically made them mutual friends. Chiara had never expected to meet him in person and Caterina had never mentioned knowing him in her short letters.

He nodded and smiled slightly. "Si, the talk of the town. What is your name?"

"I'm Chiara. Chiara Sforza," she announced boldly. Though, there was nothing to be bold about. She hated being a noble. One thing she had learnt was never to act reckless. Recklessness made people gossip. Her father had started this legacy with his ruthlessness and after he died, Caterina seemed to have taken his manners to heart and done the same.

"You're related to Caterina?" asked Ezio, surprised.

"Si, I'm her younger sister."

"She never mentioned a sister. Our affairs have always been-"

"Physical?" interrupted Chiara, regretting it instantly. She wasn't surprised because of her sister's seductive ways.

Instead of a glare or a few harsh words like she had expected, Ezio let out a good-humoured chuckle. Chiara was right - they had always been intimate but Ezio didn't know Caterina for who she really was. He only knew her from the words he had heard from others.

"That is one way of putting it."

"I should have known. My sister is practically a whore. But one who has integrity."

"That is brave of you, given she has higher status and owns all of Forli," retorted Ezio, proceeding to walk up the second smaller flight of steps of the Villa.

"None of that really matters to me. She was trained in the art of warfare so she needs aggression by her side."

Ezio nodded, agreeing with Chiara was saying. Caterina's brash ways were what attracted him to her in the first place.

"And what about you? What do you need by your side?"

Chiara didn't really know. She was self-taught in politics and the arts, but there was nothing too special about her.

"I can't give too much away, can I?"

"An air of mystery. I like you already," replied Ezio, taking off his hood as they both entered through the double doors of the house.

It was magnificent. The lustre of the beautiful marble floor bounced off the white walls and the ruby red carpet running along the floor like stripes added to the sense of elegance.

She stepped around the nearest pillar and ran her hands over a watercolour painting of what looked like Venice, admiring it's texture when Caterina Sforza walked down the spiral staircase wearing a deep plum velvet gown, laced with white across the cuffs and neck, fit for any Contessa.

"Caterina, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here?" asked Ezio, a hint of infatuation in his bright brown eyes.

She approached him slowly and he kissed her hand in an orderly manner. Caterina knew that Ezio was the man with the resources to make her plans work. She also knew the perfect way to make sure everything went to plan.

"I desire... an allegiance. The papal armies have resumed their march on Forli. Your mercenaries would be a great asset to my cause."

"This is something I will have to discuss with Mario."

"He will not refuse me."

"And nor will I. But first-"

"What are you doing here?!" exclaimed Caterina, her eyes growing wide.

"-your sister is here to talk to you," finished Ezio, lowering his voice.

Chiara replied dryly, "Hello to you too, sister."

The rivalry which existed between them became clear again in a matter of seconds. It had erupted the day Caterina was to be betrothed to Pietro, a poet. He broke off the marriage by announcing his love for Chiara instead, who was barely a woman at that age. She never returned the feelings for him out of pure love for her sister but Caterina failed to see it. That was the day their relationship had ended.

"I wouldn't be here if I had a choice, so a little appreciation of my tiring search for you would not hurt..."

Caterina simply rolled her eyes. Frankly, she didn't have time for her sister's snarky comments and time-consuming games.

"...Mother is severely ill. She had an accident whilst in the market. Some say it was a deliberate attempt to end her life however, she managed to pull through with God's prayers a few weeks ago. We have no more luck, sister. She is on the verge of death."

Anger flashed in Caterina's eyes.

"And why didn't anyone tell me this weeks ago when it happened?"

Not one to sneer usually as it was Caterina's forte, Chiara felt it was right to do so in this situation.

"Maybe if you hadn't been travelling from bed to bed, marrying men, killing them, and marrying more, you would received the letters we sent and have the decency to reply."

Knowing that would make Caterina rage inside, Chiara folded her arms and waited for a reaction.

"I..but..how did you know?"

"That's not important. She said she wants both of her daughters with her during this time. As much as you hate the sight of me, it's the least we can both do."

With a look of sympathy, Ezio chose to speak up. "_Contessa _(Countess), I think it would be best if-"

But Caterina wasn't having any of it. Her presence here was necessary. "No, I can't! The Brotherhood needs me."

Ezio placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "It's your mother. We have enough men for the time being. We'll be fine."

"But-"

"I insist," he finalised, smiling. He couldn't understand why she was so stuck on the idea that she was needed here. If Ezio had to choose between getting a chance to finally kill Cesare Borgia or be with his dying mother, he would choose the latter. No matter what. He kept this thought in mind as Caterina strutted towards her sister, grabbed her by the arm and went outside to talk.

"You shouldn't have come here!"

"Like I said before, I didn't have a choice!"

"I have plans, _bambina_. They're important!"

Chiara's face filled with disgust. "More important than your mother? Wow, sister. You become more like father every single day."

"Father was known to be a madman. I am not."

Chiara bit her lip and looked down. Their father began to lose his mind as he reached his old age but he was always caring.

"Mi dispiace. I should not have said that."

"But you did say it. You can never admit you have flaws!"

"_Guarda, bambina _(Watch it, child) . Let's not be so serious. We will go as soon as you get yourself cleaned up. Long journeys are not kind to you."

"_Grazie_," replied Chiara sourly.

They both stepped back inside and by this time, Ezio had called his sister Claudia.

"_Salve _(Hello)!" she greeted Chiara. Chiara smiled and returned the warm greeting. She could clearly see the resemblance between brother and sister as they stood next to each other. Claudia, on the other hand was small and petite.

"Claudia, would you mind asking the maid to bring some water to my bedroom? It's for my sister," asked Caterina sweetly.

The false tone in her voice was obvious to nobody but Chiara.

"Of course," said Claudia, and left.

Ezio looked between Caterina and Chiara awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Nothing should have changed now that he knew Caterina had a sister, but for some reason he felt out of place. Why would she keep such a big secret like this from? After spending so much time with each other, he still didn't know what her deal was.

"I need to talk to one of my men. Chiara, you can take one of my dresses. You'll need it. I'll call you down soon, so hurry. It will be nightfall soon."

"Again, _grazie_." mumbled Chiara. For years she had to endure patronising comments. Caterina would never lose that 'charm'.

Satisfied, Caterina left the villa and Ezio pointed the way for Caterina's guest room.

Chiara muttered a quick thank you before hurrying upstairs. The quicker she got herself cleaned up, the quicker they could go back home. She felt knots in her stomach at the thought of her dying mother. It had been hours since she heard any news from the Sforza messenger.

Once she was inside the room, she felt a chilling breeze drift through the window. The curtains were open and the sky was beginning to darken. Time was running out. There was a four-poster bed directly in the centre and the room was themed maroon and beige. A dressing table stood opposite the bed next to a fairly small dresser. Chiara closed the curtains and took a deep breath. Caterina's trunk was at the foot of the bed, opposite the bathtub stood diagonally in the middle of the room. Already open, Chiara rooted inside for a dress. The last time she wore her sister's clothes were as children, when they played together. When she unfolded the dress she picked, a piece of paper fell out.

A poem was written inside: "On a January morning, a beauty was born, her mind was strong but her heart was torn, our love burns brighter every morn, it shall crusade the skies, from dusk 'til dawn."

It seemed rather intimate and personal. Not wanting to feel any more intrusive, Chiara folded it and placed it back in the same dress. Then she proceeded to choose another.

By this time, the maid had knocked on the door. Chiara let her fill the bath with lukewarm water and leave before untieing her unruly brown hair. She sank deeper into the tub, letting her worries drown away. A mere thirty minutes had passed, yet the sky filled with darkness so quickly that Chiara's thought snapped back to her mother. Shouldn't Caterina be calling her down by now?

Looking at herself in the mirror shortly afterwards, Chiara knew that her beauty could not compare with her sister's. Caterina had the beauty of a seductive female warrior; a pale face with fiery hair to accompany it. Chiara on the other hand, had a more olived-skinned and delicate complexion, bright eyes and dark curly hair. Caterina would always tease her about being courted.

"Your hair is like a jungle, Chiara! Men won't be able to kiss you without getting their faces tangled in it."

Chiara thought it was a pathetic little joke, but it made her smile. She dried her hair until the wet locks became messy curls and began to pin them up when two stern voices found their way up through her window.

"I got your note, Paganino."

"_Signor_ Borgia said he hopes you fully understood the codes."

"Could they have been any less obvious? January, crusade, dawn. I understood it."

"He said your role in all of this is-"

"To make sure I take away as many of Mario's men as I can."

"Yes, and make sure Cesare has enough time to capture Mario and kill him."

"Is that part really necessary?"

"Si, _Contessa_. Something about a cleansing from both families."

Breath-held and in total silence, Chiara moved the curtains and peeked through. Caterina, a mere silhouette, slowly crept along the path until she reached the bald thief sat casually against the statue of Minerva.

"That will not be an issue. I know of a way to make sure he gives me as many mercenaries as I want."

"_Va bene _(Okay), it's settled."

Chiara, who was now intently sat on the window-sill, disguised by the moon's shade in her direction, shifted her position slightly, knocking over the flower vase next to her. Luckily, it fell inside the room and not into the garden, which would've given herself away in seconds.

She froze.

"What was that?" said Caterina.

Paganino was already on his feet, looking around fearfully. "I'd better go," he said hastily. "I shall inform Messer Borgia that you know what to do. May the Father of Understanding guide us."

With a slight nod from Caterina, Paganino slipped away across the garden and vanished down a set of stairs on the east wall of the villa.

Caterina rushed towards a door and disappeared from sight.

Chiara moved away from the window and stumbled over to her bed, heart thudding from what she had just heard. Caterina was the enemy here. Caterina, her sister, one of her closest friends at one time. Was the love everybody gave her not enough? Their parents considered Caterina as the favourite, everyone knew that. It hurt Chiara's confidence a little, but she admired her sister; loved her more than anyone. But this betrayal...siding with the Borgia's..the Borgia's of all people. The most ruthless family Italy had seen. They carried with them death and destruction, wherever they went.

"My sister is a Templar..." muttered Chiara. She had only read about them, but her father made it crystal clear that they were the enemies. They claimed they fought for the good of humanity, but that was not true. The "Father of Understanding" motto gave it all away.

Her train of thought was broken by yet another knock on the door.

"Come in," she ordered.

It was Caterina; acting like nothing had happened. She peeked her head through the door, "Are you done yet?"

"Yes. But where have you been?"

"Just talking to my men about getting a carriage ready...why do you look like you have seen something dreadful?"

* * *

**Edit (30/10/12): I've now added in English translations for the Italian phrases/words I use. If I've translated a word once, I won't do it again and repeat myself. Enjoy learning some Italian on the way! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

The horrible thought of murder still hadn't registered fully. She had the speed of a jaguar. That was a quick escape from the garden to the room.

"No, I must have fallen asleep. You startled me."

"Ready to go?" asked Caterina, obviously not noticing the broken pieces of the vase.

Chiara looked around. "What about your clothes?"

"Eh, I will get one of my men to take them later."

She hurried out of the room, following her sister wondering whether she ask about the horrors she heard. Part of her conscience told her she was seeing things. But it wasn't even that dark, so that erased that particular theory.

Just before they reached the end of the stairs, Mario Auditore stopped them.

"Hold it! Where are you ladies going at this time?"

"_Signor_ Mario! I must head home to visit my mother."

Mario Auditore was as tall as his nephew, Ezio. With a big grin spread from one cheek to another and welcoming eyes, Chiara found it hard to stop that lump of guilt forming in her throat.

"Ezio told me your sister was in town._ Salve_!"

"_Salve, messer_." said Chiara quietly.

"You must stay for dinner!" his voice boomed, reverberating in the empty front hall. His glass eye twinkled and his character in general appeared full of life and flamboyant. Killing this man would be awful. She would never be able to do it, not because she squirmed at the sight of blood but because he was so...nice.

"We really don-" replied Chiara before being interrupted by Mario's booming voice.

"Nonsense! You cannot possibly ride at this time."

All of a sudden, Caterina decided to intervene in a pleading voice. "_Si _(Yes), he is right. The roads are full of thieves and God knows what else."

Of course God knows, thought Chiara. Who else would know the horrific thoughts conjured up in Caterina's twisted mind?

"We have no news of mother. We really need to go as soon as possible." pressed Chiara. Maybe she hadn't simply seen things before. Maybe Caterina was truly keen on going through with the siege the following morning.

Again, the departure was delayed.

"Tell you what, Chiara. How about I send one of my most trusted men? That should give you some piece of mind, my dear!"

She still wasn't convinced but the smile which was etched on Mario's face didn't show signs of leaving any time soon.

Chiara sighed.

"Alright. If you insist."

This made him even happier than one could imagine. "_Fantastico_! Follow me to the dining room."

On entering the cosy and tight-knit dining room, Chiara was civilly greeted by two new people. One was Ezio's mother. She looked thin and worn and her smile instantly put a sign saying 'Mother' over her head. A younger man, possibly her age or slightly older, introduced himself as Niccolo Machiavelli. He didn't wear armor like the other assassins but his narrow eagle eyes possibly meant he was the tactician of the group.

Throughout dinner, Mario cracked jokes one after the other about the reputation of the Borgia's and the rumours of incest between Cesare and his sister, as well as his sister and their father, the Pope. Everybody gleefully played along, even Caterina. Chiara glanced at Ezio a few times, who glanced back, smiling and holding his glass of wine up celebrating his close victory. She didn't have a choice but return the action and say "Fortuna vittoria". Ezio talked about how Mario's favourite horse, Agnella was becoming quite the rebel, always outrunning the old gatekeeper, Frederico.  
Usually, pollo ripiene would be one of Chiara's favourite dishes but today, it tasted like mud. Nothing against the cook, but Chiara felt sickened at the thought that Cesare Borgia would attack tomorrow.  
She decided that she needed to talk to Caterina.

When dinner ended and everybody stood up to leave, she held back Caterina.  
"Sister, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course." she replied blandly. Chiara couldn't help but notice the intensity of attraction shared between Ezio and Caterina. On her sister's part, Chiara knew that it was all a ploy to steal some mercenaries. Poor Ezio, thought Chiara. He doesn't know what's coming to him.  
He left, giving them both a knowing smile.

"What is it now?" asked Caterina rather harshly.

"I heard everything."

Caterina folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Yes you do. You're going to get Mario Auditore killed. And for what?"

Caterina's mouth turned into a hard line and she didn't say anything. It was hard to tell whether she was feeling guilty, upset or angry.

"Answer me, Caterina! I don't know anything about Templars and assassins but what do I do know is that what you're doing is wrong. You're better than this.  
Everyone one of these people whose lives you are destroying are innocent."

"Their lives are not for you to worry about."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Prodding a finger at Chiara's chest, Caterina pushed her as she spoke. "It means, dear sister, that you had better watch your tongue. I am doing this all in the name of politics. You wouldn't understand."

"Or what?" provoked Chiara, narrowing her eyes. Her sister was evil. She was worse than their father. Another person blinded by the Borgia's ill intentions - so much so that it practically made her innocent. Right now, she was neither guilty nor innocent - just seething with anger.

Caterina threatened her younger sister, not wanting to. "Or..or I will make sure Cesare kills you too."

Her voice faltered; a hint that there was still hope left. Fear took over her. Caterina was merely bluffing, right?  
"You would not dare. I am your sister."

"You are nothing to me," finalised Caterina before storming out of the room, leaving Chiara on the verge of tears.

She should've known there was no hope of reconciliation when it came to her sister.

Chiara stepped inside a map room, pacing back and forth. What could she do? She broke down into tears. Her parents would not have wanted this.  
She had two options. The first was to ignore everything she had heard, forget she had ever heard it and go to sleep. Then she could either hope that the morning would be beautiful, the sun would rise, and she along with her sister would get a carriage and visit their sick mother. But then again, what if it turned out for the worst and there was a siege which she could've prevented? The second option was to waste no time and tell Ezio everything that happened. Saving lives would be a much better option. Her sister's threats meant nothing compared to the loss of civilian life. Chiara had that much compassion left, being a Sforza noblewoman.

Fully focused and determined, she hurried out of the room, and hid behind a pillar when she saw Caterina walk into what must have been Ezio's room. She crept up to the door and heard faint chatter. "...You have the advantage of me, _Contessa_. You are fully clothed." said Ezio. "I expect we could arrange something to change that."

So Caterina was really going through with it. She was going to sleep with Ezio to make sure she got her mercenaries. There was no way he'd so say no to her now. Lovers were always at her disposal. Their hearts were weak in Caterina's grasp.

The words they spoke rang louder in her ears than necessary. Jealousy filled Chiara along with embarassment of the acknowledgement of what they were about to do.  
That had prevented her from knocking on the door at that minute. She waited a while outside of the door, hoping for one of them to come out and suddenly felt the need to make her presence known.

"Who is it?" asked Ezio.

Chiara knew that she had to make up a lie, otherwise Caterina would step in and stop her from saying anything.

"Your uncle Mario is calling you. It's important."

A few minutes later, Ezio came out, wearing nothing but brown pants. He shut the door quietly. Chiara was glad to see that Caterina had not come out.

"What is it? Is he okay?"

Chiara modestly shifted her eyes from his body and replied, "Yes, he's okay. I am sorry for intruding your uh...night with Caterina, but I need to tell you something. It's important. Caterina cannot know about this."

Ezio raised his eyebrows and nodded.

He opened the door slightly, peered inside and said, "_Contessa_, Mario just wanted to discuss the Apple. I will be back shortly."

"Let's go to the weapon room, nobody will overhear us there."

He led the way, silently treading down the stairs. No wonder he was an assassin; he had the swift stealth of a gazelle.

A candle stood alone on a table, and he lit it.

His face looked much more youthful in the light.

"What is the matter, _signora _(lady)?"

Chiara gathered up her courage and told him what she saw and heard.

"That is impossible. Are you sure?" snapped Ezio.

Chiara, taken aback by his sudden tone replied, "Yes. Absolutely. Cesare plans on destroying this town tomorrow and Caterina wants to weaken your force by taking many of your men for herself. She even agreed to let Cesare kill your uncle."

"No!" cried Ezio.

"Shhh." hushed Chiara.

"There is no way...Caterina would never do that. She has been an ally to us Assassins for years. Is she capable of spinning on her heel like that?"

"I would like to think not as she is my sister and I love her dearly. I mean, it was dark and she burst into my room rather too quickly which makes me doubt..."

A flicker of hope glimmered in Ezio's eyes in the candlelight, "In that case, you might have been mistaken. Many have reported to have seen things around this villa. It is old. Reports of ghosts and silhouettes have been surrounding this place for years now!"

Poor Ezio, thought Chiara again. Her sister had him wrapped around his fingers. No wonder he couldn't believe it.

"See what my sister has done? She has you in the palm of her hand now."

That last statement made Ezio furious yet he remained calm.

"Do you have any proof? Where is the cryptic poem you mentioned?"

A lightbulb sparked up in her mind. How did Chiara not think of this quicker? The poem was in the trunk.

"_Si_! It is upstairs. Come on!" she urged.

Ezio held the candle lamp as she searched through a dozen dresses. When she found the dress from before, it was empty.

"Well?" asked Ezio.

"It was in this dress. Only a couple of hours ago. I remember!" exclaimed Chiara.

Impossible. When did Caterina find time to slip away and take the note? Never had she been in such a vulnerable position.

"You believe me, don't you? I saw it. I swear!"

"I know Caterina. She would never agree to this. Plus, we discussed Cesare's position in our meeting earlier. Cesare's plan is to subdue the Romagna. Monterigionni is still far. We have time."

"But he-"

"I must leave. It has been a long day and tomorrow will be equally as busy as I will ride to Rome for business with Machiavelli. I bid you goodnight, _bella signora _(beautiful lady)."

He bowed tiredly and blew out the candle, leaving Chiara standing there hopeless. If the Assassin himself didn't believe her, there was nobody left.

When she went back to the weapon room, the very dim light revealed a vast array of weapons. She took her pick, gently wielding a Syrian sword. It felt heavy in her hand, as well as unfamiliar. The only time she had picked up a weapon was when she fenced as a teenager. Even then, she spent more time reading by herself and painting than fighting. She fell to the floor and hugged her knees, tears streaming down her face. Time silently passed and the first signs of light peeked through the window, telling Chiara that dawn was fast approaching.

Standing on the raised grounds of the Villa entrance, she braced herself for whatever was about to come. And then she heard it; saw it with her own eyes.

A cannon ball went flying through the air, straight for one of the towers of the Villa. Her eyes grew wide and she screamed, tripping over and falling. The sound was deafening and rubble flew around. This is it, she decided, I'm going to die.


	3. Chapter 3

Paralysed on the spot, Chiara simply stared at the horror which was surrounding her, getting worse by the second. Ezio leapt from the roof above her head and tumbled. She helped him up.

"Now do you believe me?"

Ezio said nothing but instead turned his head towards the swarm of guards which were coming towards them both.

"RUN!" he yelled and ran down to the stables where an old runaway horse was ready for him.

"_Buona fortuna _(Good luck), Ezio. We all depend on you."

Ezio urged the spiritful horse towards the outer walls after swinging himself on the saddle.

While this happened, Chiara had picked up her skirts and ran towards the back of the Villa, heart thudding. She slid her back down the wall and felt pure terror. Where was her sister?

She ran back to the front again for her eyes to meet an even bigger battle than before. The notice of her was lost and she picked up a lone crossbow from the grass and then lifted her arm to see if she still had aim. It was slightly shaky but it would have to do. She propped herself on a statue, narrowed her eyes looking for a suitable target.  
A uniformed guard was hardly moving, swaying from one foot to another. Chiara pointed the crossbow, feeling for the bolt. When it's presence was certain, she pulled back the quiver and let go.  
Within seconds, the guard let out a groan, and fell face flat on the ground. When he didn't move at all, Chiara assumed he was dead.  
And then her heart was full of dread. She had just killed a man. Someone who was just following the orders of another. He didn't know things fully to understand that he was a bad guy.

She shook her head away from the thoughts and focused. Another guard fell. And another. Chiara had lost count. The adrenaline rush pumped through her veins, blood pounding in her ears. She climbed down.  
After what seemed hours, Claudia screamed out as a Borgia guard attempted to kill her, bloodied sword in his hand. Ezio came to her rescue, two gunshots visible through his white shirt. Two other Assassin's locked the hilts at the hand-guards and Claudia regained her composure, rising slowly to her feet. She rushed over to Ezio, pressing a ripped strip of cotton from her skirts onto his wounds, as he shouted at her for taking stupid risks like that.

When Ezio's gaze finally locked with Chiara's, a guard raised his sword, the sweat seeping from his forehead with a murderous glare. Ezio shouted her name, warning her. Chiara lifted her arms protectively but ended up pushing the beak-like arrow tip of the crossbow in his throat, gagging at the way the blood squirted out of his open neck.

"We must get you inside the sanctuary!" cried Claudia, to Ezio who was crawling towards her.

"No, I can't. Chiara needs my-"

He needed to be carried again as he had lost lots of blood. He ushered with his arm for Chiara to come towards him and go with them to the Sanctuary but for the time being she couldn't. She shook her head, a part of her glad he was hurt for not listening and the other part, wiping the horrid thought away.

When the coast was clear, she dashed down the east wall of the Villa, only to find more dead bodies - of civilians. Women and children with bloody gashes over their faces, trapped under the rubble. Her fists clenched. This was all her sister's doing. What harm had they ever done anyone? What was point of not showing them pity? As she walked further and further towards the entrance, the smell of blood became too much. It smelled like rust and salt. Fire blazed through houses. She walked through the door of a house which was fine and stairs which led up to a pigeon coop. The roof was still fully intact, giving Chiara a good enough view of the entrance of Monteriggioni. There was Caterina, in chains near the entrance with Cesare, watching as civilians fell like ragdolls to the floor one after the other. A big body lay in front of them in a pool of blood. It was Mario.  
Chiara had to blink tears away, it was too much to bear.

"Caterina!" she cried out, "Caterina!"  
Her cries were drowned out by the screams of death but just as she turned to leave, she swore Caterina glanced in her way.

It wasn't clear but it seemed like Cesare was smiling at his devious plan. Beside him, stood Lucrezia Borgia, blonde-haired and beautiful, standing with an air of arrogance like all the Borgia's did.

Chiara ran back up the grand stairs of the villa, the guards all piled up on top of one another like dominoes. She followed them until it led her to the inside of Mario's office, the big bookshelf opened to reveal a sanctuary. Piles of books lay at the entrance.

The thief, Paganino was about to close the door. He was hesitating whether to let Chiara in despite the time wasting. Then she realised, he was an inside man for the Borgia; that bastard.

"Do I look like a Borgia guard to you? Hurry up and close the door behind me!" she ordered.

He slipped out through the other way, saying he was going to help defend, but Chiara knew better. She picked up a heavy book and slammed it on his head, knocking him unconscious.  
Ezio was half way down the passage way, clinging to Claudia for dear life as crowds of people ran ahead of them. Maria was there too. Ezio saw Chiara hurt Paganino.

"What have you done?!" he yelled.

"He's the Templar who was conspiring with Caterina! Better to make him forget than let him get away with knowing about the Sanctuary. You cannot risk having Borgia men down here."

She caught up to Claudia and watched as she and Maria dressed and bandaged Ezio's wound. Chiara stood by the entrance by the statue of Leonius, sheperding townspeople through it. The master sergeant had gone ahead with a platoon, bearing torches, to guide and protect the refugees as they made their escape.

"Hurry!" urged Ezio to the citizens. Panic was running amock the people. Chiara felt so helpless.

"And what of us? What of Mario?" asked his mother.

"Mario - how can I tell you this? I want you and Claudia to make your way home to Firenze." replied Ezio, dodging the soul-wrenching question.

"Why? What's happened to Ma-" Claudia began to ask.

Chiara interrupted her and spoke gravely, "He's dead. I'm sorry."

"Mario dead?" cried Maria.

"What is there in Florence for us?" asked Claudia.

Ezio spread his hands. "Our home. Lorenzo de' Medici and his son undertook to restore the Auditore mansion to us and they were as good as their word. Now the city is in the control of the _Signoria _(lordship/rule) again and I know that the Governer Soderini watches over it as well. Go home. Put yourselves in the care of Paola and Annetta. I will join you as soon as I can."

"In any case, we want to stay with you. To help you."

Chiara watched as the last remaining townspeople were filing into the dark tunnel now, and as they did so, a great hammering could be heard.

"What is that?" asked Claudia.

"It's the Borgia troops. Make haste!"  
Ezio ushered everyone into the tunnel.

It was a tough haul through the tunnel. Soon the guards would be in the tunnel themselves. Ezio knew they had to act quick.  
He was walking quite strongly even with his injuries. It felt tight but the searing pain remained. At least Claudia and Mother were alright, he thought, even Chiara. He was thankful for her presence. Ezio urged the charges forward, shouting at the stragglers to hurry when he heard the stamping of armed soldiers running down the tunnel behind them. As everyone rushed past a section of the passage, Chiara accidentally tripped over a rock. He pushed her forward, too roughly. Ezio held out a hand. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes turned soft for a split-second. "It is alright."

She rushed ahead to Claudia and the rest of the people.

Grabbing the levers on the wall, he yanked it hard to release the portcullis gate. When it came crashing down, one of the pursuers got pinned to the ground. His screams filled the passage.

The air seemed to be less heavy the more they all walked, and that was a clue that they were nearly out. The sound of a Borgia cannon erupted, hitting the citadel as a final message. The roof collapsed as a woman screamed.

Rubble cascaded down. Claudia was too slow, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

"Claudia!" Ezio shouted, wheeling around.  
Chiara ran into the cloud of dust and when it seemed to calm down, pulled out a coughing Claudia, who was quite alright.

"Thank God, you're okay. Is mother all right?"

"I'm fine." answered Maria.

They dusted themselves down and Chiara thanked God they were alright, being able to come this far.  
At last they broke out into open air. Never had grass, and the earth itself, smelled sweeter.

Progress was slow with the elderly and the stragglers.  
Pursuers were beginning to approach rapidly. Ezio's back ached because of his wounds but he managed to put a woman whose legs had given out onto his good shoulder, staggering forward on the bridge, which was swinging dangerously.  
A couple of Borgia guards made it across and he used his good arm to wield a sword, engaging the enemy.  
Within seconds, the bridge was cut and the remaining Borgia fell into the abyss below.

Ezio looked down below at the ravine. Chiara stood next to him to see what the sight was.  
She saw Cesare's snaring yet handsome smile turn into an ugly smirk with Lucrezia holding Caterina in chains.

"She's not resisting..." remarked Ezio and Chiara saw it too.

In any other situation, Chiara would have been looking at an innocent and captured sister. Now she couldn't look at Chiara without the words 'murderer' and 'Templar' flashing in front of her eyes.

Cesare's main men stood next to him, Juan Borgia, Micheletto, and General Octavien - the French guard.  
Cesare held his hand up and began waving something at Ezio.  
When Chiara acknowledged the horror of it, a cry escaped her lips. She felt her stomach lurch. It was Mario's head.

"Your's next!" screamed Cesare in fury.

Ezio's fists clenched.

She placed her hands on his shoulder.  
"Ezio, I'm so sorry. Let's go, your people come first.."

He disregarded Chiara's sign of comfort, walking furiously.

"Ezio!" She shouted at him. He stopped in his walk and turned around, looking fierce.

"What do you want?" he yelled.

She walked up to him.  
"I'm sorry."

Ezio's furiousness didn't fade, "You said that already!"

"I know I did. I am at a loss for words."

"Good. Because I do not need to hear anything more from you."

Ezio was being very rude. Chiara understood that he had lost his uncle and possibly, the love of his life but it was no way to act.

"I know you are angry and upset. Losing family members is a terrible loss, I know. But your townspeople and your family need you. Just get them some place safe."

"You do not need to express concern about my family. I will worry about that."

"Bene."

"Do not tell me you told me so."

"I will not."

"Because all I was trying to have was one night, one night of peace and quiet with Caterina."

"I understand," said Chiara.

Ezio realised there was no use in venting out his anger on Chiara. She was only trying to help and she did. Ezio was just foolish enough to let his feelings get in the way and not believe her. How much longer could he endure loss for?

They both looked at each other as an awkward silence invaded the air. Ezio was furious but also regretful for not trusting Chiara. Chiara on the other hand, was strangely calm given the circumstances and felt a great sense of care towards Ezio. She had no idea why there was a sudden need to tend to his wounds, hold him close and tell him everything was going to be alright. There could have been a mutual attraction, but nothing of this sort. Chiara concluded that maybe her conscience was trying to make up for what should have been her sister's doing. Chiara could easily picture her sister comforting Ezio.

"I guess I should take my leave. I truly am sorry for what has happened but I did what I could," she finally said.

"I appreciate that but where will you go now?" he asked, his expression more calm than before.

Chiara shrugged, "Back to my mother. I need to explain to her why I've come back alone and what remains of my sister."

Ezio nodded, "Yes, I agree."

"_Arrividerci, messer_ Ezio (Goodbye, sir Ezio)."

"I wish I have the pleasure of seeing you again in the future,_ signora_."

Chiara smiled bleakly, "One can only hope."

"Ciao."

She turned to start walking but he stopped her.

"Wait, take my horse."

"No, I could not. She was your uncle's favourite horse."

Ezio shrugged, "She was. I can find plenty more down south."

The horse nuzzled up to Ezio's touch. Chiara walked up to the horse and stroked its silky brown hair.

"She's beautiful, is she not?" whispered Ezio, his breath caught in his throat. This was the only link he had left with his uncle Mario. Now Chiara definitely knew that she had to say no. He had lost so much in his life - she couldn't take away one more thing.

"That she is. Which is why I cannot accept her. The nearest town is very close."

He looked her straight in the face with a hard and determined stare asking, "Are you sure?"

She nodded and broke away from his gaze.

"I should get going," she finally said before walking away from him and on her way to San Gimignano, the closest town.. Her mother would be disappointed but it was Chiara's job to comfort her. Ever since her father died, her mother had been frail and prone to bouts of depression. She kept her alive and healthy all these years.

The dusty roads under her feet felt more unfamiliar as she walked. It gave her much-needed time to re-think what was going on. All these years Caterina was distant and the moment Chiara saw a slight chance of a reunion, everything changed. And then her thoughts pondered over something she hadn't before - the aftermath of her mother's death. With no parents, where could she go? She was unmarried but educated. Jobs for women were scarce - they didn't even exist outside the household criteria. Becoming an assassin? That was silly. Her encounter with the crossbow earlier felt good - oddly natural, but she wasn't a fighter. She had to stop and take her sandals off and continued, eventually making blisters on her feet as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. For a moment, she panicked as she couldn't see any stone buildings in the distance but more trees. Chiara rethought whether she was actually coming the right way or not until she heard a rather high-pitched neigh coming from behind her. She turned around to see Mario's horse, Agnella running high speed towards her so much so that she had to move out of the way as it came to a halt. The horse is frightened, thought Chiara.

"What's wrong?" asked Chiara, "Where is Ezio?"

Agnella's head rose as she neighed again, and began trotting back. Chiara rolled up her skirt and began to run alongside the horse, eventually coming to a stop when she saw an exhausted Ezio unconscious on the ground.

"Ezio!" she gasped, shaking him. He wouldn't wake. She didn't even have any water. His face was golden with sheens of sweat.

Agnella neighed even louder, fear rising in her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chiara tried lifting Ezio, but he was too heavy for her. She managed to lift him up enough to put his weight on one shoulder but even so, she could only pace forward a few steps.

"_Signora_ Chiara?" asked a figure on a horse. He galloped closer and revealed himself to be Machiavelli.

"What has happened?" he asked, dismounting his horse.

Chiara stood up from kneeling, "I do not know. I was walking and Agnella came running to me so I followed her and found him lying here unconscious. He lost a lot of blood before, maybe that's why he..."

"I heard about the attack on Monterigionni. I am sorry I could not be there earlier," he apologised, putting one arm under Ezio's back and one scooping up his legs, putting him on his horse.

"It is alright. Did you hear about Caterina?"

Machiavelli grimaced, "Yes, Ezio sent a messenger straight after the attack. It is unfortunate that she chose the wrong side."

"What will happen now?"

Machiavelli shook his head, "I do not know. With the leader of our brotherhood dead, we need to elect another. Perhaps then, we can recruit more men to our cause and finally take down the Borgia _bastardi _(bastards)."

Chiara thought of her sister and Ezio only. The one girl who had understood her more than she did herself was the one to betray her so foolishly.

She felt more sorrow for Ezio; he blindly tagged along, driven by pure desire and to what extent?

Getting his uncle killed.

First things first though, thought Chiara.

"Forgive me, but what is this brotherhood you speak of?"

Machiavelli narrowed his eagles eyes, as if he was scanning something.

"Caterina has never told you?"

"Back at the villa was the first time in many years that Caterina had spoken to me properly."

"Oh," stated Machiavelli, "In that case, you are a stranger and I cannot tell you much for fear of you selling the information to the enemy."

Chiara laughed exhaustedly.

"You think that after everything that has happened, I would sell information to the enemy? I am afraid you mistaken me for my sister, Caterina. Remember her? The red-haired beauty who hired the Orsi brothers to murder her husband and agreed to let Cesare kill Mario? Yes, her."

"Yes, yes, you have a point," replied Machiavelli impatiently, "Anyways, may I ask where you were headed?"

She pointed towards the east and replied, "Back to my home in Milano; past San Gimignano."

Machiavelli let out a good-humoured chuckle.

"What is so funny, _messer_?"

He pointed North, "San Gimignano is that way. You can get fast travel through Roma where I'm headed. I will be glad to accompany you and see you off."

Chiara was glad. On her own, she was vulnerable and as Machiavelli quite rightly pointed out, lost. Gratitude was what she felt at that moment towards him.

"_Grazie_, that would help greatly."

"_Bene_. Here, take my horse."

Chiara refused.

"_Madonna _(Lady), the sores on your feet burn brighter than the red moons of Jupiter. Please, I insist."

She eyed him nervously. There was something sarcastic about the way Machiavelli spoke - very doubting.

"Alright." she stated, letting him help her onto the horse. The moment her blistered feet touched the cold leather saddle, she let out a surprised gasp of breath.

It was like dipping her feet into ice-cold water.

Machiavelli got on the horse with Ezio and as he was still unconscious, tied a belt around him and the horse so he wouldn't fall.

The three of them set off to Rome, home of the infamous Borgias. It was a quiet trip, which helped as Chiara didn't really have a topic of discussion to interest Machiavelli. Throughout the journey, she couldn't help but steal glances at Ezio. Most of the sweat had dried off by this stage but the bandages on his body smeared with crimson blood were still as bright as when he had first sustained the injuries. His breathing had slowed down to an even pace. He looked so innocent it hurt her a little inside.

"Do not worry. I will put him in good hands once we arrive at Roma," stated Machiavelli suddenly, abruptly breaking her train of thought.

She looked at Machiavelli and said, "I hope so."

"Trust me, I saw the way you were looking at him. It would almost be a sin to break your heart."

Taken aback, Chiara felt the need to make her intentions clear, "_Messer_, I assure you, I am only showing concern out of courtesy."

Machiavelli, who didn't look convinced simply nodded his head and looked in the distance, "There it is. The once-beautiful Roma, now rotting with the stench of incestuous and poisonous power."

Chiara had never taken the time to escape the picturesque Tuscan countryside and visit a bustling town and her first look confirmed the thoughts that first of all, it looked big. And second of all, it looked scary. Milan was on the verge of becoming more industrialised, but not to this extent. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to linger here for long.

Agnella neighed as Machievelli pulled her reins, riding faster than before. Chiara silently followed. The hustle and bustle of the crowded city hit her like a brick in the face. The air was musty and rank in some places. Beggars kneeled in street corners, dirty hands extended for a florin. What struck Chiara the most was that the civilians didn't give a second look to Ezio and his wounds. Were they that used to violence and blood?

Her question was answered by a distant group of guards, walking closer. They pushed people out of the way, not caring who they hurt in the process and snickered. One of them even carelessly slaughtered a man tending to his sack of vegetables.

She looked at Machiavelli. He kept his gaze down, lowered his voice to a hush and said "Keep your head down and turn left."

After a few twists and turns in deserted alleys, Machiavelli came to a halt in front of a fairly small palazzo.

An aging woman with a warm smile made negotiations with Machiavelli whilst her husband gathered all his strength and carried Ezio inside their home.

"Madonna Sforza, it would be wise for you to change your gown. Though the people in the streets of Roma do not notice the blood and ripped cloth, the travellers on your way home will surely gossip," said Machiavelli, handing her a embroidered cotton gown. It would work well against the hot weather, thought Chiara. San Gimignano saw more sun in its open fields than this city.

"_Grazie_."

"Come through here, I shall get you some water before you leave," said the kind woman.

Machiavelli waited in the front room of the _palazzo _(building) whilst Chiara was led into the room where Ezio lay. Luckily, there was a wooden separator which shielded her from anyone's view as she unclothed, washed her mud-ridden skin and dressed again.

She slipped out of the separator to find the woman tending to Ezio's wounds, carefully dabbing his open chest with a wet cloth.

"I am no _dottore_ (doctor) myself, but anyone would be able to see that the bullet missed his heart by an inch. He is truly blessed,"

Chiara nodded and smiled slightly, relieved. If she was reassured that he was going to be alright, it would make her journey home a little more comforting.

"That he is," replied Chiara, "Thank you again, _Madonna_..?"

"'I am the _Contessa_ Margherita deghli Campi. No need to thank me. _Messer_ Niccolo pays well and he has trusted us many times before with these kinds of situations."

"I see," said Chiara. Many times before? That must have meant that the 'brotherhood' he had spoken of before was a very serious business, especially if it involved assassins like himself, and Templars like the Borgias. She had a gut feeling that there was more to it - a conspiracy perhaps?

An hour later, Chiara was sat in a wide carriage, along with other passengers with Machiavelli seeing her off.

"I wish you all the best, _signora_. I hope your mother gets better."

"Thank you, _messer_. That means a lot."

"I suspect you are not married and have no other siblings?"

A blush crept onto Chiara's cheeks, "Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

Machiavelli lowered his gaze rather shyly and answered, "If worst comes to worst then you know where to find me. My time is most spent in _La Volpe_ _Addormentata_ (The Sleeping Fox)."

"Oh, well _grazie_. That is very kind,"

"Anytime, _signora_ Sforza."

"And another thing," he started, lowering his voice, "Please do not tell anyone about the Brotherhood. It was my mistake mentioning it in the first place but if anyone except you was to know about it, then-"

"I will not tell a single soul. Cross my heart." stated Chiara, finalising the conversation.

He kissed her hand and as the carriage rode away, yelled goodbye.

The fast travel carriage was filled with passengers of all ages. A family of six were huddled in one corner, the babies sound asleep. However, two middle-aged women caught Chiara's attention. They seemed to be gossipping in hushed tones about a family of nobles. _Her_ family.

"Did you hear? The Sforza girl sides with the Borgias!"

"The young one?"

"_Negazione_ (No)! She is too sensible to do something like that. It's the other one."

Chiara looked up from under her lashes. They looked disgusted.

The second woman covered her mouth in disbelief, "Caterina?"

"_Si!_"

"_Mio dio _(My God)!"

Chiara had heard enough. She stuck her head out of the window and sharply sucked in some cold air. News traveled fast; faster than she had anticipated.

She rested her head on her arm, still on the window and fell asleep. The road had been kind to her and not rocky in the slightest, but Chiara still felt her heart hang heavy with dread the second she opened her eyes.

The driver of the carriage was urging her to leave as she had arrived at Milan. She clambered down the steps and looked up. The cobblestone fortress stood high and mighty, leaving Chiara to ponder over the thought of whether the Borgia's would destroy this too.

As she walked, she felt curious stares on her back. Chiara quickened her pace just when she felt like the stares were becoming piercing.

Her walk turned into a fast-walk, which then became a sprint. As soon as she came to her door, she let herself into the palazzo. She was greeted by her housemaid, Lia.

"Why aren't you with mother? Is she alright?"

Lia looked distraught.

"She is alright. She has...company."

Chiara's suspicion's arose. "Company?"

"You had better see for yourself, _Madonna_."

A vague idea of who was keeping her mother company had already formed in Chiara's mind and her suspicions were immediately confirmed when she saw Caterina. The fact that Caterina had felt the need to show up here of all places, hurt Chiara more than the betrayal itself.

Acting like the perfectly worried daughter, Caterina held her mother's hand for dear life and dabbed a wet towel on her forehead. Heartache for her mother just came naturally as Chiara stared at her limp body, frail and thin.

"I should not have left, _mia madre cara _(my dear mother)."

"We have been careful not to let any news of your sister's story get to her ears. I figured it would pain her more to know the truth."

Chiara was touched by her maid's small gesture. "Thank you. Truly, you have always been kind."

"It is nothing," smiled the maid sympathetically, before scurrying out of the room.

Now Chiara's attention had turned to her sister.

"She could go at any time," stated Caterina, not daring to look at her sister, "The _dottore_ said the illness has reached its peak and there is nothing more we can do."

"Just stop," ordered Chiara. She hated lying and knew deep down that she could not keep up the act, no matter how much she had tried.

"Stop what?" asked Caterina quietly.

"Stop acting like everything is okay! How can you even live with the shame?"

Caterina stood up and stared Chiara straight in the eye.

"There is nothing shameful in what I have done. Why is it so terrible for me to have different beliefs than you?"

"Because these beliefs of yours cost the lives of thousands of people."

"It was for a rightful cause! You would not understand!" shouted Caterina, suddenly.

Chiara's eyes flickered over to her mother.

"Lower your voice. You wouldn't want to upset your dear mother."

"Don't tell me what to do, _bambina_."

"My apologies. You're Templar _schifezza _(scum). You would never do as you're told."

The last statement made Caterina furious. Apparently, their mother had heard enough, as she let out a gasp and began to tremble. She opened her mouth, like she was about to say something or maybe comment on what she had heard, but no sound came out. Her face suddenly shone with sweat and her eyes grew wide.

She stuttered, "T-t-templar?"

"Now look what you have done!" scolded Caterina.

"Guards!" she yelled at the top of her voice. Two guards, bearing the Borgia crest with red caps, black sleeves and dark streaks, rushed into the room and stood in position.

"Take Chiara away to my room. She is making my mother anxious."

Before Chiara had time to react, the guards hastily grabbed her by her arms and dragged her to Caterina's room - one of the highest in the house. They were much too strong for her to shrug off so she had no choice but to give in. Chiara was pushed inside and the doors slammed shut. She heard the soft clicking of the lock from outside the room and banged her fist on the door. Nobody opened it.

"Let me out!" she banged, continously. Nobody bothered responding.

"_Madre _(Mother)!" she cried, her back sliding down the wood panelling.

The peach light outside the window indicated sunset and soon, Chiara's room was thrown into darkness. Nobody bothered checking up on her. She lay on her bed, wanting to cry again but surpressing the tears so harshly that her body ached.

She woke up to find bread and water on her table sometimes, making her feel like more of a prisoner. Once, she had tried to stay awake to see who would leave the food so that she could have once chance to get out and see her mother, but her eyes found sleep almost every night like a lost lamb.

Soon, Chiara had lost track of time. Almost a week had passed. One morning, she awoke to the sound of a crowd gathering outside her home.

"May God have mercy on her soul," she heard people pray.

"No!" screamed Chiara. Fear called her name. She leapt from her bed and went to the window.

The crowd began to disperse as her mother's lifeless body was being taken away. Her body was shrouded.

"_Madre_!" she cried. Tears fell softly and it felt as if someone was crushing her heart in their cruel hand. Her eyes found Caterina's below her, staring up and smirking. Even after everything, her sister could not find it in herself to shed a single tear.

She had nobody left. Her father had gone. Her mother had gone. Her sister was as good as dead to her. The gnawing feeling of helplessness brought on more tears. Chiara cried herself to sleep.

She heard the door unlock in the middle of the night. Soft candlelight found its way in and she heard someone leave the burning candle on the table. She breathed evenly and managed to convince whoever was there that she was asleep.

The young maid had made the mistake to leave the door hanging wide open as she informed Caterina of Chiara's state.

"_Signora_, she is fast asleep."

Caterina spoke coldly, "Good. Make sure to let the guards take her from her room in the morning. Don't disturb me unless it's important, _capisci _(understand)?"

"Si."

"Repeat this to anybody and your head will be on a stick."

"_Si, Contessa_." replied the young maid before curtsying and locking the door.

"_Merda _(Shit)," muttered Chiara. The decision to lock the door made all hope of leaving disappear. Caterina was planning her death now too. Is that what it was? Was all this necessary due to a broken betrothal and moral beliefs?

She needed to get out as soon as possible. The only way out was the window. The ground seemed so close, yet so far. She slipped on a dark cloak from her closet and squeezed her eyes shut.

Part of her conscience sounded like Caterina and told her that never in a million years would she be able to outwit her sister. The other warned her not to be stupid. In the end, she decided that a pillow would soften her landing.

Bracing herself, she hugged a big pillow and pushed herself slowly out of the window, keeping her grip on the ledge. The darkness was enough to outline the edge of the rooftop.

Chiara's head swooped with dizziness. Heights was one of her fears. Caterina knew this too well - maybe that's why she was locked on such a floor. She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes, muttering "_Aiutami, dio_ (God, help me)!" like a chant. The roof was reasonably flat, but Chiara wouldn't risk a single thing.

She shuffled along the half-hipped roof occasionally stopping to calm her nerves. Once, a slate slid down the roof and cracked on the ground but it aroused nobody's attention.

When she reached the end of the roof, she leaned over and her heart raced faster than ever. She thought she had gone crazy. She let go of the pillow, which landed with an almost silent thump on the ground. The only way down now was to jump. It took longer than expected and instead of jumping onto the pillow calmly, her sweaty hand lost grip of the ledge and she half-tumbled onto it, silently screaming. A sharp pain in her leg muscles caused her to groan in pain but it wasn't too bad. She was able to stop and listen for noise before using the shadows as a means of escaping the villa grounds. The town was deserted except a handful of guards. Their drunken attention was too focused on destroying the art merchant's shop to realise there was a woman limping in the dead of night, trying to escape her death.

Once she was out of the town walls, she was about to approach the fast-travel manager for a horse. She stopped when she turned the corner and instead of finding him alone, she found him talking in hushed tones with a Templar guard.

There was never an easy way out. Instead she had to think of a way to distract the men and run away on horseback.

The stables were locked messily. Anybody with a brain would be able to pick the lock easily. A mistake which would cost the manager dearly at that moment. Chiara picked up a rock from the ground, opened the side door of the stable and stepped into the shadows. The sharp pain in her leg arrived again along with the need to stop and breathe for a second. She aimed for the horses hooves from a distance. The horse, startled and scared, neighed and gallopped away.

"_Che diavolo _(What the devil)?!" shouted the manager, as he and the guard scurried away from the stall and sprinted after the horse.

Chiara opened the latch on another gate, pulled the horse out using the reins and exhaustedly climbed on it. She had to pull her dress above her ankles to sit properly. Luckily, the cloak shielded her legs so she was ready to leave. The hood of the cloak worked wonders against the night light. Many memories of her life flooded back to her as she took one last look at her home. She realised that it could no longer be her home and uttered a prayer.

"_Mi dispiace, madre_ (I'm sorry, mother). I am sorry for everything," she whispered, before setting off for Roma once again.

* * *

**Thank you for the follows, alerts, and reviews - especially miruka67! I appreciate everything. Even one review is enough to brighten up my day! So feel free to tell me what you liked about a particular chapter, or any thoughts at all!** **Criticism would be helpful, even if I am only writing this for fun - and for you guys obviously!**


	5. Chapter 5

Hours later, following one winding path northwards and Chiara had arrived in the desolate city of Roma once again. When she reached the stables, her horse was taken from her quite harshly and locked up without a word.

She decided that the stable-boy wasn't the best person to ask for directions.

"_Muoversi_ (Move)!"yelled a low voice.

Chiara left the stables to see a group of guards patrolling the street. No doubt, they would know what she looked like by now. Putting the hood on again, she slipped into a crowd of civilians and followed them until she lost sight of the guards. As more civilians streamed onto the street, more groups of guards were sighted in the distance. Keeping herself jammed between people, Chiara took a sharp turn to the right and came to a halt in front of a wooden plaque nailed to a door.

It said _'Rosa del Fiore' _(Pink Flower) on it.

She knocked dubiously on the door. It was opened immediately by a young girl wearing an indiscreet silk dress.

"How can I help you?" she asked, flashing a professional smile.

The girl opened the door wide and let Chiara inside. There was an air of neglect about the place. Pink roses ran along the dirty white walls, climbing outside the open windows like vines. Benches were lined up against the wall with half-naked girls sat seductively, tending to men. It didn't take Chiara long to realise that these men were customers. She was stood in a brothel.

"Are you here for a job?" asked the young girl.

Chiara snapped her attention back to the courtesan and answered, "_Mi scusi_ (Excuse me), no. I just wanted directions to _La Volpe Addormentata_."

The courtesan snickered, "That worn down pub which reaks of old men? What could you possibly do there?"

Machiavelli worked in a pub? That was certainly surprising, thought Chiara. He came across as more of a refined man.

"I was told to meet someone there. I just need directions."

The courtesan didn't look convinced, but it was none of her business anyway.

"Oh. It is not far. The building stands by itself. There is a blacksmith's shop before the beginning of the road. Just follow that road down and you will find it."

Chiara took the courtesan's hands and thanked her profusely.

Almost giddily, she opened the door quickly only to collide with a stranger who was on his way in.

Her hood was still up, and for a second she froze, hoping it wasn't a guard.

"Hey, watch where you are going!" hissed the man.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, before walking away.

True to her word, the courtesan's instruction led Chiara to a rundown district. A broken-down inn faced her whose woodwork was in need of a touch of paint, new blinds and possibly a new sign as the one which was already on it with a fox, was lopsided.

The door was shut fast and Chiara had to hammer it with her fists many times before getting a response from the other side.

"Business?" said a slightly muffled voice from inside.

Chiara pressed her face against the door and answered, "I need to see _messer_ Machiavelli."

"Name?"

"I cannot say," replied Chiara. She wasn't assured as of yet that this place was totally safe. Besides that, she wasn't sure how fast news had spread of her escape. There may have been guards looking for her.

"I cannot let you in."

"Please! Machiavelli told me in person to come and see him here if I needed help. Ask him for yourself!" pleaded Chiara, desperate.

There was nothing but silence as Chiara waited for a reply.

"Hello?" she asked.

More silence. A few more minutes passed and she heard the door unlock.

"Come inside," ordered the man, dressed in the attire of thieves.

Chiara cautiously walked inside and took a good look at the place. It was fairly small with a low ceiling. There were a few wooden chairs and tables scattered around in front of a bar. The man had a friendly face but seemed guarded. He said nothing and went behind the bar. A handful of male and female thieves bustled around the place, idly chatting away.

Machiavelli walked out from the back door, surprised to see Chiara.

"Chiara! What are you doing here?"

He led her to a table and sat her down.

"Sforza?" asked the man behind the bar. He came out and inspected Chiara's face.

"La Volpe, this is Caterina's sister, Chiara. She was with Ezio when the siege of Monteriggioni happened."

For a split second, he had a look of disgust on his face at the mention of Chiara's family name, but it faded quickly.

"A pleasure to meet you," he stated with a straight face.

"_Messer_, I did not know where else to go," said Chiara, turning to Machiavelli.

"What happened?" he asked with concern.

She didn't know quite how to put into words and found herself stammering.

"I saw Caterina in Milan. My mother...she..she-"

Her mother's torn expression when she had heard Caterina's true identity as a Templar was still as clear as day in her mind. It was Chiara's fault that she had to live with such betrayal in the last couple of days of her life; if only she had shut up about Caterina being a Templar for a while.

"_Mi dispiace,_" said Machiavelli, solemnly.

He didn't know how to comfort Chiara - he didn't even know her, but it was crystal clear that she needed someone to trust.

"I did not even have a chance to see her. You should have seen my sister - not an ounce of remorse was in her eyes."

Machiavelli didn't know what to say. He was never put in a situation like this and thought that saying nothing would be better than saying something out of line.

"I think...I think she was planning on killing me too, but I escaped before morning. Templar guards have control in Milan now. I cannot go back there."

"What exactly are you asking, _signora_?" asked La Volpe, a hint of sympathy in his voice.

Chiara shook her head, "I do not know. Maybe I want to understand what is going on. You mentioned the Brotherhood, Machiavelli. What exactly is it? How does it link with the Borgias?"

A moment of hesitation passed between Machiavelli and La Volpe.

"Why did you tell this girl about us?" demanded La Volpe, stepping out from the bar.

"I did not say much. I just mentioned the Brotherhood in a moment of confusion,"

"Compromising the Brotherhood, eh? I always knew you should not have been trusted!"

Machiavelli stood up to face La Volpe, who was more than a foot taller than him.

"I did not compromise anything. Like I said, I merely mentioned it."

La Volpe glared at Chiara and she stated, "It is true, _messer_. I really have no idea. That is why I am asking."

"Even so, how do you know _she_ can be trusted?" asked La Volpe.

"Look at it this way. She fought on the assassin's side in the siege, did not go with her Templar sister, watched her mother die, escaped Templar death and came to the aid of the assassins. What does that tell you?"

Machiavelli was challenging La Volpe, who in turn had nothing to retort. Instead, he raised the beaker of wine to his lips and drank a little.

"Alright! We need to speak to Ezio first though, before disclosing any information."

"_Va bene_."

Right on cue, Ezio slipped through the back door and entered the pub.

"La Volpe! A drink would be in fine order."

"You managed to get them?!" exclaimed La Volpe, a wild grin on his face.

"It was not hard, so it was done. Here you go," he said, returning the smile and handing over a satchel to the friendly thief. Then, he looked around to see Machiavelli talking to someone who looked familiar. It was the woman he banged into at the _Rosa del Fiore_ earlier.

"Machiavelli; introduce me to this mysterious woman," said Ezio humorously.

Chiara took her hood off, leaving Ezio as surprised as Machiavelli had been earlier, if not more.

"Chiara? What are you- this is certainly a surprise,"

"_Salve_, Ezio. How are you?" she asked, smiling faintly.

"Better now that you are here, signora," he answered playfully.

He noticed Machiavelli's poker face and asked what was wrong.

"Chiara's mother is no more. She has nowhere to go and wants to know more about our Brotherhood."

"I am sorry for your loss, but _more_? How did she know in the first place?"

Machiavelli looked down with guilt, "I may have let something slip earlier,"

"Do not make that mistake again, my friend. You are lucky that it was Chiara who heard and not a Templar scout of any kind."

He placed a kind hand on Machiavelli's shoulder and with a determined look on his face, Machiavelli agreed.

Ezio sat down at the table with them and La Volpe brought over a glass of Trebbiano.

"What is it that you want to know?" he asked.

Chiara didn't know where to start and rubbed her eyes, deep in thought.

"Uh, what is the Brotherhood?"

"We are an order of assassins who are the sworn enemies of Templars. For centuries, we'v e been fighting them. The Borgias are Templars too which make them our biggest concern at this time."

"What are your aims?"

Ezio looked at his fellow assassins, "Well, it is rather complicated. There are scriptures and codexes which have tenets and a thorough explanation of things. We fight for those who cannot speak out, in today's case - the civilians suffering under the Borgia's regime. Our hope is that the death of one corrupt mind can salvage the lives of thousands."

Chiara felt like her eyes were being opened to something new - a whole new perspective of life and the world too.

"You believe you can make a difference to these people's lives? They are your cause?"

"Of course," replied Ezio, "But it is a perilous path. Lives are lost all the time."

Remorse washed over his face and stood out in his expression. But the longer he kept his eyes locked with Chiara's, the more earnest his feelings became.

"Can I join?" asked Chiara, breaking the silence which was eating up the air between them.

Machiavelli instantly refused, causing La Volpe to eye him suspiciously.

Ezio looked taken aback too. In his eyes, as attractive and young she was, there was a strong sense of innocence and vulnerability about her. Her character was both fragile and strong at the same time. It did not make sense and Ezio did not want to complicate things further.

"What he means is, this is no role for a woman. It is far too dangerous."

Chiara was hurt because they both thought she wasn't strong enough.

"I am a steadfast woman - I can learn!"

"Your words are driven by revenge, Chiara. Revenge is not always the answer," spoke Ezio gravely.

"See, that is where you are wrong. I do not seek revenge on anybody. I seek justice. I want to do something meaningful with my life. I have nothing left - what have I got to lose?"

She was pleading once more, on the verge of desperation. She needed to occupy her time with something. These men were on a mission which sounded like it would prove to be successful in the long run. She wanted to be a part of that.

The three men looked at each other for support but Chiara was hellbent on her demands.

"Please!" she begged. She wouldn't take no for an answer but they still refused.

"You would be better off working as a courtesan," said Ezio, trying to make Chiara change her mind. He was observing her face in the candle light. Being a courtesan was a profession he despised, except for the few times they made him comfortable after a tiring day of work.

"Absolutely not!" blurted Machiavelli.

Ezio commented, "You seem offended by that statement more than Chiara herself,"

"That is because you've stolen the poor girl's tongue," laughed La Volpe.

A new sense of stubbornness took over Chiara's sensible side. Two could play at a game, she thought.

"Actually, that sounds like a _splendido_ (splendid) idea,"

"What?" asked Machiavelli, his eagle eyes surprisingly wide.

"_Messer_ Ezio came up with such an excellent idea. I wonder why I did not think of being a whore like my sister before."

She glared at Ezio who was slowly drinking from his cup, feeling slightly guilty.

He knew it was a dirty move to say something like that to Chiara, especially at this time, but there was something about her which was too fragile. Being an assassin would make her lose this appealing vulnerability. He always found himself drawn to damsels in distress, Caterina being a fine example stuck on the bank of the river, but Chiara wasn't a lost cause. She was sensible, but she was strong-willed. It was the perfect time for an apology.

"I was simply teasing. My apologies," he mumbled.

"No, no, it is alright. You have convinced me. I am to be a courtesan."

"_Sul serio_ (Seriously)?" asked Ezio, dazed and confused. It was merely a joke. He could not picture a noblewoman like Chiara being a whore. She was not immodest or blunt.

"_Si, _in all seriousness_._"

* * *

**Sorry if the story is going too slow! I have quite a lot of things planned and some of my ideas sounded a lot like "The Forgotten Love" fanfic which is really popular on this site (and absolutely amazing!) so I had to change a lot. **

**Constructive criticism is welcome here, don't be shy. Don't forget to review, guys! **


	6. Chapter 6

"Look Chiara, Ezio teases women. It is his hobby. That is what he likes to do. Tell her you did not mean it!" urged Machiavelli.

Ezio simply shrugged, as confused as Machiavelli. La Volpe on the other hand, was grinning like a madman obviously finding the whole situation a laughing matter.

"Gilberto!" scolded Machiavelli, looking at his inconspicuous hater with his eagle eyes.

Now it was Ezio's turn to laugh. "Oh, let him have his fun, Niccolo! You are too wound up!"

"Maybe a courtesan can help you loosen up!" chuckled La Volpe.

Ezio raised his beaker of Trebbiano, "Let us drink to that and maybe Chiara could be the one who do-"

Mid-sentence, Ezio realised Chiara was not amongst them. He and his friends were so caught up in the joke that they didn't realise the girl had left. It was too dangerous for her out there, thought Ezio, an apple-sized ball stuck in his throat in guilt. The last time had laughed this much was with his uncle, back in Monteriggioni. It felt good and rather invigorating, but also horrible because he had been inconsiderate towards Chiara.

"Chiara?!" he asked again.

"She disappeared!" exclaimed Machiavelli, rising from his seat and scanning the small room.

Ezio slammed his beaker down on the wooden table, glanced sideways stupendously at Machiavelli and stated, "You do not say..." before sprinting outside.

"You do not think she was being serious about working in a brothel, do you?" asked La Volpe with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Suddenly, Machiavelli felt a little sad. He did not want Chiara working in a brothel. If it was money she wanted, to get by with her life, he would give her as much as she needed.

"I certainly hope not!" he sighed.

The young girl from earlier had opened the door for Chiara again, beaming as if they were life long friends.

"You are back! I am guessing the broken down pub was worse than you had imagined."

"_Si._ Something like that," replied Chiara rather blandly.

The young girl got the hint, "Oh. Sorry."

Chiara took a deep breath and braced herself. She smiled slightly, assuring the girl that she was alright. She always was, no matter the situation. But there was a small moment of hesitation too - she hated pretending she was okay when she wasn't. Being an assassin would've helped her acknowledge her pain and let it go, but that was not an option anymore. The only viable option remaining was to become a courtesan. It wouldn't be as exhilarating as plan A, but it was a distraction at least.

"It is alright. Anyway, I came to ask for something."

The courtesan knew exactly what she wanted, "You still want that job, _si_?"

Chiara nodded, surprised. "What gave it away?"

"I have only ever seen women come here to earn some money or find a home. You are not the first. Every girl here has a story."

The girls here certainly didn't look like they had a story, sitting on men's laps and whispering sweet nothings into their ears, but maybe they were like Chiara - seeking a distraction and wanting a fresh start.

"My name is Zita. What is yours?"

Another moment of hesitation and Chiara completely reinvented herself.

"I am Ersilia," she replied.

Zita raised her eyebrows, "I have never heard that name before. It is lovely."

"Mhm. It has been in my family for generations."

She made up another white lie but felt no guilt as it was to save her life and get rid of all her ties with the past.

"So about that job..."

Zita's eyes lit up, "Oh! Yes. You will have to speak with our madam first."

The young girl led Chiara down a hallway which led to a bright but small office. A fairly-aged woman sat at a desk, scribbling away with a feather quill. Chiara noticed that she too, was dressed to fit her position. Her rich, velvet low-cut dress revealed more than she had hoped to see.

"Madonna Solari! There is a girl who wanted to join us. Her name is Ersilia."

Madonna Solari looked up from her writing with piercing green eyes.

"Take off your cloak," she ordered simply.

Chiara did as she was told.

Then, the madam rose from her seat, thoroughly checked her head till toe before stating, "That dress is too loose on you, dear. Tighten it from the back, Zita."

A quick grab of fabric from the back of her dress, and Chiara looked down to see her womanly figure being outlined clearly. It made her slightly uncomfortable.

"Hmmm. It looks like you once a had a beautiful waistline. You are far too malnourished now. A little fattening up and you should be perfect. Any experience?"

Zita had let go of Chiara's dress.

"None, madonna."

Madonna Solari nodded and sat back down.

"My girls will teach you all you need to know. The more skillful you are, the more men who will fall at your feet. The more men who fall, the more florins you earn. It is rather simple really. _Capisci_?"

"_Si_."

"_Bene._"

Zita opened a trunk in the neighbouring room and pulled out an olive green dress, much like hers. Her eyes widened when she held it up to it's length. It was slightly more modest than Zita's but nevertheless the neckline was low and the sleeves were flimsy and almost transparent.

"Try this on."

Zita turned her back and Chiara stripped down to her white slip, which she had to take off too because it was longer than her new dress.

She hurriedly put the dress on and even then, felt naked.

Zita turned back around and observed her. "Madonna Solari was right. You need to eat more. But otherwise, it looks fine."

The two girls left the office, only to be greeted by Ezio looking rather annoyed. His mouth made a slight 'o' shape on seeing Chiara's new look, but his anger overtook his surprise.

"Why did you leave without a word?" scolded Ezio.

"Because I had no more business there. You and your friends made it very clear that I was out of place, therefore I have found my place. Here."

Ezio covered his face with his palm, exasperated, "I was joking."

"What is he talking about, Ersilia?" intervened Zita, raising her eyebrows.

"Could you please give us a minute, _bella signora_?" asked Ezio to Zita, flashing a charming smile at her.

Zita was more than happy to oblige and Ezio was glad his old charms still worked.

"Ersilia?" he asked Chiara.

Chiara crossed her arms, "Well, I had to make a new identity for myself. What would people think if they knew a Sforza girl became a whore?"

The thought sent shivers up her spine, despite her acceptance of this job as a courtesan. The thought of men stroking her skin, putting their tongues down her throat and shoving their hands where she didn't want them made her shudder. She was a Sforza for God's sake. She was supposed to be basking in happiness from a happy marriage to a Duke somewhere in a fancy villa, reading books or playing with her newborn children. Instead, she was stuck here.

"They would think she has gone crazy," said Ezio.

"Precisely."

"But-"

"Time is ticking, messer. You have to pay to talk." interrupted Zita, walking over to them.

Ezio glared, "But she is not even a proper courtesan yet!"

"Rules are rules. Madonna Solari will have you thrown out otherwise." stated Zita, hands on her hips.

"But I haven't even finished speaking to her. Five more minutes?" he pleaded.

Zita sighed and agreed, but on one condition. "Alright, but you're attracting too much attention with those things on your back. Try to look like an ordinary customer at least."

She gave Ezio a slight push towards a bench on the east wall of the brothel.

Chiara followed and watched as Ezio took off all of his weapons except his hidden blade vambrace.

After hiding them under his cloak beneath the bench, he saw Chiara staring, "One can never be too careful."

Now Ezio was stood in the same clothes as he wore in Monteriggioni before the attack - a white cotton shirt and brown pants. His hair was tied back. He no longer looked like the deadly assassin who hid his face under a hood all the time. Chiara could not deny that he was handsome with his crinkly chocolate brown eyes and a boyish complexion. In fact, he was the most good-looking man she had ever set her eyes on, ever.

Again, she caught herself staring. "So before Zita spoke, you were saying?"

"I was saying, this is a little ridiculous. You cannot possibly hope to achieve anything by working here!"

Ezio could barely recognise the noblewoman he saw earlier in this half-naked attire. Sure, she looked attractive, mature and better than half of the women here but it didn't feel right.

"I need to do _something_. Anything to keep me on my feet."

"This job won't keep you on your feet. It will keep you lying on beds. With strange men."

Chiara looked disgusted. She knew deep down that he was right, but it was her decision.

"Don't turn around!" whispered Ezio, shuffling closer to her.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, letting him pull her towards his body so that he was backed up against the wall.

"Borgia guards. Two of them, here to pay for some girls no doubt."

"What pretty girls!" yelled one of them in delight.

Ezio snorted.

"What if they're here for me?!" panicked Chiara, her face mere inches away from Ezio's. She could feel his warm breath on her face.

"In that case, don't move and let me handle things!"

Before she could ask what exactly he meant by 'handling things', she felt his arms wrap around her waist. He buried his face into the left side of her neck, the stubble prickling her skin.

"Look convincing." he mumbled, in between planting a trail of small kisses on her bare shoulder.

She closed her eyes and ran her hands through his hair, taking advantage of this tingling sensation she had never felt before.

After a few minutes, Ezio lifted his head. "Okay, open your eyes. They're gone."

Chiara opened her eyes and sighed in relief - glad the coast was clear. She still felt a little tingly based on what just happened but Ezio saw the situation differently. He had played half of his part well. The second half was to make Chiara see sense.

"Just go home to your relatives. Uncles, aunts, cousins. Anyone."

"I don't have anyone! Just let me become an assassin." said Chiara, determined. She put her hands on her hip and waited for an answer.

That was not an option, thought Ezio. As if he was going to let a girl like Chiara become an assassin. It would just complicate matters more. His mission for the time being was to keep her away from all the complications and seek out answers; more importantly, from Caterina herself.

"No. I will not let you risk your life like that."

"Then we have nothing more to say to each other." finalised Chiara, annoyed. Her heart raced in nervousness. She didn't want Ezio to leave, but she knew he had no reason to stay any longer. She wasn't giving him any reasons either.

"I guess not." replied Ezio solemnly.

He stepped back, and started to put his robes back on, carefully sheathing his sword and wearing the coin purse.

"_Arrividerci_." he uttered, giving Chiara an intense look full of jumbled emotions before walking out of the brothel.

Chiara exhaled deeply and blinked a couple of times, upset that she had ended things on a bad note with Ezio.

* * *

**I apologise for the lateness, guys! I'm really sorry! College is fully set into motion so I'm swamped with work! ****Sorry for the short chapter too. I promise, I'll try and do one in the next two days. Don't forget to r&r! I'd love to hear your opinions on what you liked and didn't like! **


	7. Chapter 7

Almost a week after Chiara had settled into her new home, the worst happened and Madonna Solari had been mercilessly slaughtered by a band of slave traders. Like the ever present hero, Ezio had gone to save her but failed. His sister Claudia was now the new Madam of the Rosa del Fiore against the wishes of Ezio and her surprise at seeing Chiara working in a brothel could not be contained. However, she had kindly promised not to whisper a word about her new identity as Ersilia and instead of putting her through the embarrassment of working as an actual courtesan, Chiara was allowed to do administrative work such as helping run the brothel and keeping the other girls in check. She was glad of this role - it allowed her to dress much more comfortably, however Claudia made a few adjustments to her gowns so that she still looked like a courtesan.

With the blink of an eye, a couple of months had passed since Ezio had last spoken to Chiara. He had visited once to see Claudia but for work purposes. Even then, neither Chiara or Ezio had the intention of being civil towards each other so they agonisingly endured each other's presence for a few hours while business was being discussed. Machiavelli on the other hand, spent almost every waking moment in the brothel with Chiara, never disclosing enough information. Ezio had given him strict orders not to get Chiara involved which enraged her. There was still nothing new about Caterina's state. As far as most people were concerned she was being kept in the Castel D'Angelo for entertainment purposes. After that month, news arrived of the Banker.

"I need your help with an assassination," declared Claudia one day as Chiara was organising the courtesan's wages in the office. She lost count of the florins.

She looked up in disbelief. What could _she_ possibly do?

"But I am not an assassin. And can never be."

"Never? Who on earth told you that?"

"Nobody. But your brother and Machiavelli made it rather clear."

Claudia nodded, "_Si_, I guess they did. They are right though. It is no place for us, certainly not for you."

She rearranged paperwork and began writing a letter.

"Why not me?"

"You are essentially a convict. The Borgia are constantly on the lookout for any signs of you. Being an Assassin would plaster your face on wanted posters all over the city walls."

Chiara fiddled with the coins, staring at her reflection in a particularly shiny one.

A lost young woman stared back with no hope.

"You are right. But don't you feel out of place sometimes?"

Claudia narrowed her eyes under her long brown lashes.

"I'm not sure I understand..."

"Out of place as in, you don't belong here. I don't. You don't. You told me you managed your uncle's finances for years."

"So?"

"I can tell you were sick of working there behind a desk. So why repeat that again?"

Claudia looked up from her letter and sighed.

"Because I have nothing else to do. This is the only thing I am good at. You saw how Ezio reacted when I told him I would be in charge of this place. Imagine his reaction when his little sister tells him she wants to be an Assassin and run on rooftops all day long."

Chiara laughed softly, "Perhaps it will be better if I _do not_ imagine it,"

"_Si,_" laughed Claudia, "he can be an _asino_ (ass) sometimes."

"In all honesty, Claudia. The way you handled those guards when Madonna Solari had been killed was very admirable! I was in awe the entire time."

Claudia blushed and shook her head.

"I could not have done it without you - you are a fighter."

The day the slave traders took Madonna Solari, Borgia guards broke into the Rosa Del Fiore. The other girls had ran off into their rooms but Claudia and Chiara faced the guards. After making sure all of the guards were badly injured in some shape or form, the girls were let out to loot the men before kicking them all out with a threat. That was the day Ezio reluctantly agreed to let Claudia stay in the brothel as a Madam.

It was a great victory, thought Chiara. Claudia knew that deep down too but she respected her brother, even if he did leave her to cope on her own for ten years.

"_Grazie._ It felt good though, no? We make a good team." stated Chiara, grinning.

"And also why we should stick together and keep each other company here!"

Chiara rolled her eyes and smiled quite sadly, "I just want to do something meaningful with my life."

"In that case, hurry up and sort out the money. We have a banker to kill."

A couple of hours later, Chiara was sat with Zita and Claudia in the back room of the brothel, discussing the tactics.

Zita was Chiara's closest friend next to Claudia. She was let in on the Templar conspiracy only as far as knowing that Borgia guards were not to be trusted and that once or twice, they had to be killed in order for their home to be safe. She was plumper than before due to eating herself into a state of depression after a scandalous affair with a customer. Zita's words when they had first met rang clearly in Chiara's ears - every girl had a story here.

That would be hers. Zita's most regular customer had showered her with flowers for a long time. As she was the only girl he was doing this with, Zita assumed that he liked her on a deeper level and fell for him. One night, she discovered she was pregnant. It had to be that man's because she hadn't been with anyone different for over two months. Once he had found out the dreaded news that he was about to be a father, he disappeared without a trace and Zita never heard from him. First she starved herself into depression and lost the baby, and then she ate herself into it.

A story of another girl was that she was an orphan who was found in the streets of Venice and brought up in the brothel by the madam of that time. One girl even claimed she escaped from a wealthy baron who enjoyed the most crude sexual forms of pleasure.

"I received a letter from Machiavelli. The Banker is throwing a Pagan party tomorrow in Rome."

"What is his real name?" asked Chiara.

Claudia shook her head, "It is a well-kept secret. All we know is that he handles Cesare's funds. The sooner we can cut him off the better."

"Shouldn't we have done that weeks ago?"

"Ezio has only managed to track him down now. The Banker covers his tracks well."

Zita asked, "What is our job?"

Folding the letter in half, Claudia looked up sternly.

"Zita, I need you to take some of the girls into that party. Dance with the men there, seduce them, do what you have to do. Ezio will be there. Scan the crowds carefully and you'll find him. Try your hardest to find the whereabouts and information of the Banker and tell Ezio as soon as possible. Ersilia, you may have to do what you don't want to."

Deep down inside, Chiara should've seen this coming. How else would she be able to help with an assassination? The only job left for a woman besides fighting was seducing. She had no experience at all.

"You mean, sleep with-"

"I mean that it is not certain. Follow Zita around the party. Most likely, the Banker will choose Zita over you. She will be dressed the part."

Chiara sighed in relief.

"When it comes to the assassinating part," continued Claudia, "Ezio will discuss that with you."

After finalising the party location and dress code, Zita went down to the other girl's rooms to explain the plan whilst Chiara went to bed.

Just before she left, Claudia held her back.

"I know you and my brother have indifferences, but he's a good person who keeps getting hurt. Please do not put him through that again."

Chiara didn't even know how to respond to such a random outburst because she strongly doubted her chances of hurting him. She never knew what to say around him either way so that would be a helpful factor and she was more than certain he felt nothing towards her.

She left the room and went straight to bed, alert and awake. Her worries kept her from falling asleep. She had a long day ahead of her and couldn't help thinking of every possible thing which could go wrong.

"Zita? Are you awake?"

She was fast asleep on her bed, chest heaving as she breathed heavily.

"I am now," she mumbled.

"What if something goes wrong?"

"Just hope for the best Ersilia and go to sleep."

Zita rolled over and began snoring loudly.

By the next evening Chiara, led by Zita and her group of well-dressed courtesans, arrived at the Pagan party.

Almost dropping her jaw, Chiara blinked repeatedly to take in her surroundings. It was the most lavish and sexually-oriented public gathering she had ever dared to visit.

Half naked men, some with nothing but a leaf skirt covering their private area, slobbered over courtesans wearing next to nothing rather hungrily. Women dressed like Egyptian goddesses threw themselves at the nearest men they found, lips locking instantly.

"Are we sure we are at the right place?" whispered Chiara.

"_Si_. There is Ezio, sitting on that bench." pointed Zita, a hint of excitement in her eyes.

The direction Zita pointed to had a bench with a guard sat on it.

"I know he was going to be dressed as a guard, but how do you know that's really him?" asked Chiara, holding Zita back from going.

Zita shrugged off her hold and threw her head back to laugh,

"Loosen up, Chiara. He made that clenched fist signal."

Chiara stared hard at the masked guard again who held his fist up.

"Anybody can clench their fist for you to regard it as a supposed signal."

"Fine. I shall go and see for myself, _bene_?"

Chiara shook her head and began to retort when Zita strutted over to the guard, exactly as she was taught back at the brothel and was about to take his mask off when his quick reflex grabbed her hand. He shook his head. It was too dangerous.

Instead, the guard got off the bench, keeping one hand placed over his sword cautiously. He walked over to Chiara, his eyes boring into hers intensely.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her ear.

"Stop being so stubborn, Chiara."

Chiara glared, "Of course it's you Ezio. Only you would greet me so rudely."

His eyes widened slightly, "_Mi dispiace._ I didn't think you-"

"Save it. Let us get to work."

"Chiara-"

Ezio wasn't used to having his advances rejected so quickly. He was trying to be apologetic but if Chiara did not want to listen, he was not one to stop her. Despite this thought, he had a desperate need for her to be on good terms with him. It could ultimately ruin the assassination.

"I think Zita has found him."

Ezio turned around and watched as a red-cheeked fat man dressed in nothing but a scarf around his hips with a ram's head on it, a long gold necklace and a cardinal's hat snaked his arm around Zita's waist.

He and Chiara slipped into a crowd, edging closer to them.

"Such lovely cheeks, like cherubs," commented the Banker, a chubby finger stroking her cheeks.

"The ones on my face or the ones on my backside, Banker?" replied Zita cheekily, which resulted in a coy grin from the Banker.

"Juan Borgia the Elder?" questioned Ezio in mock disbelief.

"Who?" asked Chiara, trying to get a better look at him. She recognised him from somewhere.

"Cesare's cousin. He was at the Siege. He's the banker."

"They're related? But he seems so..."

"Fat? Ugly?" suggested Ezio, not losing his sense of humour through the grimace which appeared on his face.

Chiara had an urge to smile but didn't want to give the wrong impression. She was still unsure as to why she was speaking to Ezio. It was stubborn for her to act childish over becoming an Assassin, but the more she learned about the Borgia's indiscretion, the stronger she felt about fighting for this cause.

"I was going to say foul and vulgar, but that works just as well."

"Cesare is foul and vulgar too. It runs in their blood."

Chiara shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, but even Cesare keeps up a clean image."

Ezio raised his eyebrows as if to call her stupid.

"You know what I mean." she quickly recanted.

"If you mean to say that he keeps his image clean by making his disgusting relationship with his sister public, then no, I do not."

"Never mind," finalised Chiara, not wanting to further the argument. It was hard attempting to have a conversation with this man without defensiveness kicking in.

Ezio smirked and Chiara looked around.

"What?"

"Nothing." he replied, the smirk stuck on his face. Chiara couldn't tell whether the smirk was meant to be evil or funny, but either way he seemed to be okay so that was all that mattered. She absentmindedly noted how his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled. It was nice to see.

Juan Borgia, with Zita on his arm, walked to the centre of the festivities. Ezio and Chiara closely followed.

The crowd gathered here was bigger than before as everyone had come to hear Cesare's brief speech about the soon-to-be-united Italia. After a roaring applause, Ezio turned his attention to Juan.

Chiara's hands flew to her mouth at the next sight. It felt like she had been hit in the gut, hard.

The crowd had scattered slowly at Juan's show of power. He strangled Zita who was in his company, and let her body crumple to the ground like it was nothing.

"That will teach her to tease a Borgia!" he shouted, sweat glowing like sheen on his big forehead. A smile crept up on his licked lips.

"Which one of you beautiful little girls is next? I promise I don't bite."

* * *

**A thousand apologies for how late I have updated! Please mind my excuse of college being hectic. I've been so tired from travelling and writing essays!  
**Now that I've got a faint idea of what I want to happen next in this story, I PUH-ROH-MISS I will update this weekend!  
Honestly! Noticed that I've got a few more followers and favourites - _please_ guys, review my story! I won't know what you like until you review! I'm very glad you guys are enjoying this though. Revieeeeeeeeeeew! :D


	8. Chapter 8

"Zita!" whispered Chiara, tears streaming down her face.

Ezio grabbed Chiara by the shoulders and turned her around, away from the horrific sight, not noticing that Cesare had slipped out.

"He..he killed Zita!"

"_Si,_" said Ezio gravely. He led Chiara back to the bench he was sat on earlier.

"But..he..in front of everyone. That Borgia bastard."

The Banker is much more dangerous than I had anticipated, thought Ezio. He had to be more cautious when it came to killing him. The time was not right because Juan Borgia was now moving through the crowds, surrounded by a Seeker guard.

"And he will pay for it, I promise."

Little did he know that for Chiara, a promise wasn't enough. She wiped her face, straightened her dress, pulled the shoulder of her dress down to expose her neck and stood up.

"Yes, yes he will," she stated, rage growing inside her. She failed to understand how people could be so inhuman.

"Where are you going?"

She gave no answer. Instead, she pushed aside the party guests and strode towards Juan Borgia. The crowd split into two as they made way for her. Everyone watched in total silence at her boldness.

"I will be next."

Juan Borgia, who was in a heated dispute with the Captain-General, turned around with glee evident in his eyes.

"And who are you, _attraente _(sexy)?"

Chiara put one hand on her hip and answered, "Ersilia. Since you promised not to bite, I promise to make your night."

Juan cackled and addressed his audience, "A fiesty little poet! _Mi piace!_ _Mi piace molto! _(I like it! I like it very much)"

The audience cheered rowdily. Some even wolf-whistled.

"What do you say?" asked Chiara, heart beating fast. Her hand was still on her hip. She could feel the metal handle of the stilletto inside her skirt. Her fingers fumbled but nobody noticed.

Except Ezio.

He watched from the bench through the guard's mask. A glint of silver caught his eye.

"_Cazzo_ (Fuck)!" he cursed, patting his armor for his stilletto. Chiara had taken it. The courtesans had taught her good - too good. Didn't that stubborn girl realise she was walking straight to her death?

The Banker would be dead before he was allowed to lay even one finger on Chiara - that was her plan. The bulk she felt under her hand reassured her; made her feel a little safer about what she was going to do.

Ezio, on the other hand was enraged. He cursed his sister a thousand times in his mind for letting Chiara stay as a courtesan in the Rosa Del Fiore, but swore at himself even more for putting the idea in Chiara's head. He considered killing the Banker there and then, but that was too risky. It would draw the attention of too many people. But it was even more riskier to let Chiara go through with the plan. Maybe if he dressed as Juan's Seeker, he'd be able to keep an eye on her.

Minutes later, Ezio had lured the gullible Seeker to the outskirts of the Pagan party where he informed him in disguise that the Assassin was seen spotted near the bale of hay. As soon as the Seeker began to prod the big pile of hay with his long spear, Ezio lay him to rest with his hidden blade. After stripping the guard naked, he threw the body into the haystack and changed into his clothes.

Stepping back into the party, Juan and Chiara were nowhere to be seen. He used his eagle vision and all that stood out were bright red Borgia guards. His targets weren't located in gold. Quietening his voice, approached a guard, "Hey, where did the Banker go?"

"You were supposed to be guarding him, Fillipo!" said the guard, suddenly scared.

"_Calmatevi_ (Calm down)," said Ezio, "The food in this lousy party gave me a bad stomach. Any idea where he went?"

The guard sighed indignantly and pointed, "I think so. He took that whore and went that way. You are lucky he's drunk! Otherwise he would have noticed you were gone by now!"

While all this happened and Ezio was preparing himself, Chiara had led the Banker to a deserted area behind the building in front of which the festivities were being held. She held his hand which was clammy. She felt sick just watching his body scan hers up and down. His cheeks were flaming red and his breath was rank and smelled like months-old venison meat.

"What are you waiting for? Take off your clothes and entertain me!" roared the Cardinal.

Chiara's body began to tremble. "Not so fast, _messer_. Let us go somewhere more...private."

"Fine by me!" he yelled happily and she grabbed his sweaty hand again pulling him inside an empty room. She slammed the door shut and pushed the Banker towards the bed.

His whole body seemed to be burning red. Sweat ran down his bulging belly. Chiara could see them drip, drop by drop if she looked carefully. It made her feel nauseous. She decided to get it over and done with. Keeping the stilletto in place, she climbed onto the bed and over Juan Borgia. Being careful not to let his sweat get on her body, she sat on him.

"You are so tense. What is wrong?"

Juan took a swig from his bottle of wine and Chiara waited as he gulped it down.

His words came out slurred.

"Nothing, my sweet. Now entertain me!"

His drunk attitude was worse than a young child throwing a tantrum.

"First thing's first, you drunken bastard," she said, pulling her stilletto out from her skirt. Keeping her weight firmly pressed on his body, she pointed the tip in his face.

"Why did you kill Zita?"

Juan Borgia feigned confusion and asked who that was.

"That girl you strangled just now. What was your point?" demanded Chiara, pressing the blade down to his throat.

"The point is," he replied, keeping his eye on the blade, "that I have a lot of power. I am superior to half of the nobles out there. And you, my dear, need to be more cautious."

"You are terribly drunk and in no position to threaten me," commented Chiara nervously, "Chances are you will forget this by tomorrow. _If_ I let you live."

Juan laughed and Chiara pressed the blade down even further, a drop of blood on the tip of the stilletto.

"Don't tempt me!" she ordered furiously.

"If you let _me_ live? You really are stupid aren't you, Chiara?"

Chiara froze. He knew her name. The Banker knew her real name. The breath was knocked out of her. She moved her lips but nothing came out.

"Surprised, dear?"

With that interrogative, he pulled Chiara down on him and rolled over so the roles were reversed. Now Juan Borgia had Chiara pinned down like a trapped deer with his legs wrapped around her.

"Get off of me!" she shouted.

"What was it that you said? 'Not so fast'," replied the Banker cheeks bulging as he grinned wildly.

If the Banker put any more pressure on her, Chiara was sure her bones would have been crushed. His huge weight constricted her breathing and the stench of alcohol hit her face every time he opened his mouth.

"Caterina failed to mention how pretty you were."

"I said get off-"

Juan clamped his chubby pink hand over Chiara's mouth, muffling her words.

"Now where were we?"

Keeping his hands tight on her mouth, Juan's fingers began to creep down Chiara's back, finding their way to the lace on the back of her dress.

Just as he was about to untie them, Chiara moved her hand a few centimetres as far as she could, enough to jab the stilletto into his side. He let out a yelp in pain but didn't move. Instead, he was unfazed and called his guards. Chiara struggled to move under him.

Two huge brutes stormed inside and Juan ordered them to take Chiara back to the Castello.

"The Assassin will be here any second. I will make sure to deal with him."

The brutes nodded and the second Juan Borgia lifted himself from Chiara's body, blocked her way forward and lifted her by the arms so that her feet were barely touching the ground. Fear crept into Chiara's mind. This was all planned - they knew she was coming. He knew who she was. Now she regretted her act of stupidity because it would cost Ezio the whole mission as well as her life.

Chiara was taken outside of the room, back to where they were stood before. Juan's bodyguard Seeker came forward.

"Where have you been, Fillipo? Or should I say, Ezio Auditore?"

The assassin stopped walking and took off the guard's helmet. The Banker wasn't drunk in the slightest.

"Let her go."

"Unfortunately for you, I refuse to do that."

"Juan, if you know what is right for you, _let her go_."

The cardinal motioned for his guards to take Chiara away by cocking his head. Impulsively, Ezio threw a small knife which flew threw the air and wedged itself into one of the brute's legs.

He groaned in pain.

"You! The other one, take her. Now! The news is that I am dead." yelled Juan Borgia as Ezio unsheathed his sword.

Again, he was stuck in the middle. He could either go after the brute who had Chiara, or fight the Cardinal here and now. Except, the cardinal didn't have any weapons.

"Don't you get tired of being a hero, Auditore?"

Ezio said nothing but walked closer to Juan, keeping a tight grip on his sword. Juan spoke flamboyantly, even in the face of death claiming that he regretted none of the indulgences he had enjoyed.

"Kill me, I have given everything to these people." said the Banker.

Ezio sheathed his sword, leaving nothing in his hands. It struck him as odd as to why Juan was embracing his death, rather than running from it.

"Perhaps that was your greatest mistake. Now you pay for it."

"I do not regret a single moment of it."

And with that final statement, Ezio pounced on the Banker, plunging his hidden blade into his bare chest.

"_Il piacere immeritato si consuma da sé_.(Pleasure unearned consumes itself.) _Requiescat in pace _(Rest in peace)."

Leaving the Banker dead on the path, Ezio ran ahead to where the brute went before. He finished off the injured one who was trying to limp away. The brute put up a good fight but eventually gave in. Ezio then continued running, but to no avail. There were no signs of them. He turned on his eagle vision again, focusing even harder than before until golden trails appeared on the road. The trail led him to the edge of the road where the only thing surrounding it was water. They must have taken a boat, he thought. His eyes skimmed over the glistening water and he saw nothing but plain buildings in the distance.

Somewhere across Roman waters, Chiara had her hands and feet tied sat on a boat with the brute. If she could swim, she would attempt to get rid of the ropes and jump off the boat.

"You don't have to do this, you know," she said to the brute.

"Yes, I do. The Borgia's will have me killed otherwise."

"You could run away. Make a new name for yourself."

"I have a family to feed."

Chiara said nothing more after that - she couldn't blame the brute for carrying out orders. He had no choice. She sat in silence for the rest of the journey across the dark Tiber river, surprised that he knew where he was going.

After what felt like hours, they came to a stop and a guard holding a lamp stood waiting for them. The brute untied her feet, leaving her hands tied and handed her over to a new guard before glancing her way sympathetically.

"The Banker?" asked the guard.

The brute shook his head and then left without a word.

The guard led her inside a grand cyllindrical fortress where other men were stationed at certain points, doing their guard duty. Some of their uniforms were different - instead of black and red, they were blue and silver.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Chiara.

The guard simply led her inside the castle, which had ceilings as high as the sky. Stair runners of rich red fabric paved the way ahead and Chiara was pushed up these stairs until they reached a wooden door in what looked like a massive library.

He rapped on the door loudly.

"What do you want?" growled the man inside.

"_Messer _Borgia, your orders have been followed and I have bought Chiara Sforza!"

The door was opened to Chiara's worst nightmare.

Cesare Borgia stood in all his might and glory, as handsome as ever. His shiny dark hair fell either side of his face, reaching his neck. He rubbed his stubbled chin.

"Finally. What about my brother?"

"Dead."

His mouth quivered.

"Dead?"

"_Si._"

Cesare stood perfectly still, looking at the guard and then Chiara, back and forth.

"Leave her with me," he stated simply.

Chiara was pushed into the room and the door was slammed behind her. She was left all alone with Cesare Borgia, the monster who was capable of anything.

"So you're the other Sforza girl. Caterina never stops talking about you."

Caterina was here? Her loyalty still lay with the Templars then.

"Is my brother truly dead?" asked Cesare, circling Chiara.

She stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. The bright candlelight hurt her eyes. She clenched them shut and suddenly heard Cesare's voice whisper in her right ear.

"I asked you a question."

He turned around and faced Chiara properly. Silence invaded the air. Her voice was lost due to fear.

"_Answer me_!" he suddenly roared with his raspy voice. Each hair on Chiara's arm rose as she flinched.

Her voice faltered, "I..I guess so."

"That _pezzo di_ _merda _(piece of shit); I see what he's trying to do," he muttered, running his hands through his hair frantically. Chiara assumed he meant Ezio. He walked back and forth in a straight line.

"What do you want with me?" questioned Chiara.

Cesare twirled around. "Good question!"

Facing her again, he put a hand under her chin and lifted it up, beginning to digress.

"Hmmm..such delicacy. Caterina really is wearing out..."

Chiara raised her eyebrows. His cold skin sent a shiver up her spine as he grazed the tips of his finger along her neck, reaching her bosom.

An ugly smirk formed on Cesare's face, distorting his good looks.

"You, Chiara Sforza, can be my little secret," he snarled.

* * *

**Another follower; welcome to my story! :D**

**Please review guys - it would mean the world to me! Any surprises, shocks,**** characters do you like, dislike etc. Don't mean to sound desperate but I'd love to read your reactions.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Excuse me?" asked Chiara, blatantly shocked. If she had heard right, Cesare Borgia was essentially making her his sex slave; a little whore just like Caterina.

"It is alright, the city does not need to know. We would not want to tarnish your perfect reputation."

Cesare continued running his cold fingers along Chiara's skin, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. She closed her eyes, dreading what was to come. It was unexpected; too unexpected. If only she had prepared herself for a situation like this. How could she ever hope of becoming an assassin if she could not prepare herself for the worst?

Her voice came out in whispers, "Please don't do this."

"Pleading now, are we?" asked Cesare, with a deep, penetrating gaze. His determination was evident in his stature; the way he moved, smiled, stared and even touched. It was frightening.

"Please," she begged.

"But I am the future king of Italia. We all know that a king always gets what he wants. And what I want, Chiara, is you."

Chiara mustered up all her courage and spat in his face.

"Do you have no shame at all?!"

Without a warning, Cesare's hand hit Chiara's face. She instantly touched her cheek where she had been slapped, eyes stinging with tears. This man was beyond crazy, she thought.

"No. I am a Borgia. We all learn not to let shame control our actions," he stated coldly, pushing Chiara towards a wall. He stepped back and began to unbuckle his belt.

"_Mi dispiace_!" cried Chiara, "Please do not do this!"

The sudden dread immobilised her. She couldn't move. He unbuttoned his shirt and forced himself on Chiara, violently mashing his lips against hers. Horrid thoughts snaked their way into her head. The first image in her mind was Lucrezia Borgia. Was it true that these same lips tasted hers too? Then came Caterina and Ezio. Chiara began to interlink each of these people until her head hurt. Her mouth ached. Cesare would not let her go despite her constant attempt to push him away.

She felt her skirt being pulled up, above her knees. Chiara let out a desperate scream.

"Shut up!" yelled Cesare breaking off from the forced kiss and staring with utmost intent at the way Chiara's dress was laced together. His fingers fumbled with the ribbons and hooks, reminding Chiara of the Banker hours earlier. He ripped them apart using his mere fingers. They were all the same, she concluded. Each and every one of these Borgias. They had no self-control and were monsters.

A knock broke Cesare's train of thought.

"Who is it now?!" he shouted, his raspy voice making Chiara flinch.

"The Pope requires your presence, _messer_ Borgia!"

"Tell him I am busy!"

The guard outside coughed slightly and cleared his throat, "He also said you can play with your toys later. Now is the time to discuss delicate matters like a man."

Cesare's cheeks flamed red in embarassment.

"How dare he say such things..." he mumbled, letting go of Chiara. She in turn breathed a sigh of relief. She would be spared that day.

"Come inside for a minute."

The door opened and the guard walked in, standing in position.

"Take her down to the cells."

"As you wish," replied the guard, bowing slightly.

He waited patiently as Chiara straightened her skirts. He saw that she struggled with her hands tied. After throwing a quick glance towards Cesare, who was wearing his shirt and fixing his pants, the guard helped Chiara pull her skirts down and tied her laces.

His grasp on her as he led Chiara down to the cells wasn't as harsh as the ones before and she was truly grateful for that. The behaviour towards her wasn't even that violent but she swore she had bruises all over the place. She hated being so sensitive because it made her physically vulnerable.

Walking inside the cell was another hike. The twisting stairs seemed neverending until they reached the miserable place. The guard untied her hands and left her locked inside a cell. She peered out of the bars to see the other cells empty. A few exceptions had dusty skeletons hanging from the walls. The hollow eye sockets were ghastly and sent shivers down Chiara's spine. She was going to die here and she knew it very well. Cesare would keep using her body for his own pleasure until she was worn out. Then he would kill her because she would be of no use anymore. Was Caterina in the same situation, or was she truly a Templar? Did she declare her allegiance to the Templars as a way out of this hell or did she really believe that only they could be responsible for curing humanity?

Chiara's religious beliefs weren't strict but she had always kept her tradition of praying by her side. Their mother made them say grace at every dinner and made them kneel beside their bed and pray every night before bed as children.

With her mother and sister's face etched in her mind, she put her hands together and uttered a pray for them both; her mother to rest in peace and her sister to find her way back to the right path. Then huddling her knees together, she lay her head to sleep on the stone floor.

"Good morning, _bambina_."

The voice was very close by. A bright flame flickered in the distance as Chiara opened her eyes to her sister's voice.

"Caterina?" she asked, half-asleep.

"You look terrible."

It certainly didn't seem like morning, thought Chiara. There were no sources of natural sunlight anywhere - it felt like it did the night before; cold, dark, and lonely above all. She rubbed her eyes.

"Your lover does not treat his guests well," retorted Chiara.

Somehow, Caterina, who was standing outside the bars, looked exactly the same as she did back at their home in Milan. Even months later, there was no change in her face. Not even a single wrinkle ruined her complexion. However, her expression was changed. It was as harrowing as ever. The superior glint in her eyes made her look like Cesare's equal.

"He is not my lover."

"I recant. Your king. Hero. Saviour. Or whatever you see him as."

Caterina rolled her eyes, "I see you have not lost your unappealing sense of humour."

"What are you doing here?" asked Chiara, cutting to the chase.

"I live here now."

Chiara shook her head, "I meant, down here."

Caterina began to walk outside the cell, "I wanted to visit my little sister."

"You mean, the sister who means nothing to you? The last time I checked, you were willing to let Cesare kill her too."

"Come on, that was a simple threat. I just could not risk you telling Ezio about Cesare's attack."

"Yet, I told him any way."

"Yes, yet you did. But he did not believe you," smirked Caterina, hands on her hips as if she was waiting for an answer.

Chiara narrowed her eyes, "Are you surprised? You had him in the palm of your hand. He wanted you so much more than you did him."

"_Si._ So?"

"And you took advantage of that," stated Chiara, rubbing her belly. She hadn't realised how hungry she was.

Caterina laughed, "Get to the point, _bambina_."

"My point is that you are as cold-hearted as your circle of friends."

"Oh, stop being a saint."

Chiara was starting to get emotional as well as defensive.

"You practically killed his uncle and you broke his heart!"

"Well, when you put it that way..." said Caterina who hasn't taking any of these matters to heart. To her, it sounded like Chiara was trying to tell her off again for being a naughty girl.

"He is a good man. He did not deserve to love someone as cruel as you."

This sparked Caterina's interest. "Oh, so he deserves to love someone like you, perhaps?"

"I did not say that."

"But you implied it, no?"

In actual fact, Chiara was unsure whether she had implied it or not. She did not know the first thing when it came to love but her point was that nobody should be treated the way Ezio was. He had endured so much torment.

Caterina wasn't smiling any longer.

"Silence says everything, sister."

"If I am not mistaken, it sounds like you are jealous."

"Me? Jealous of you? Don't make me laugh even more Chiara. I owned Ezio and now I've thrown him away. He is all yours. You can pick up the broken pieces and keep them for yourself."

There was no way that could happen now, thought Chiara. Even if she did _want_ Ezio, how could it work? He was the most wanted man in Italy, many years older than her, and an assassin. He was in no position to settle down with someone like Chiara. The only mutual attraction they had towards each other was the need to protective; to not see the other get hurt.

"Anyway, the real reason I came down to see you was not because you're my sister and I'm supposed to love you-"

"Which I already knew," interrupted Chiara bitterly.

"-but because Cesare is convinced that you have information which we need. Regarding the Asassins."

"I know nothing about the assassins."

"Don't lie to me. We need to know what they have planned against us."

"I do not know anything about the assassins."

Caterina pressed her face against the bars, glaring.

"You have been in contact with and working with them for months now! You could be an assassin yourself for all I know!"

"How could you possibly know that without torturing the information out of me?" asked Chiara, intrigued.

"Your ring finger."

Chiara looked at her fingers, inspecting them.

"It is not branded," said Caterina, "Assassins get initiated into the brotherhood by getting their middle finger branded. It has been centuries worth of tradition."

"Funny," remarked Chiara, sitting up on the hard floor, "You seem to know about the assassins more than I do."

"I used to be one myself."

Caterina held up her ring finger which had a burnt ring around the middle.

"And what happened?"

"I saw sense." stated Caterina, with an air of confidence.

Chiara nodded, "Explain to me how killing innocent men, women and children makes sense? To me, it just seems like your minds have been plagued with craze."

"It is much deeper than that!" shouted Caterina indignantly, "You would not understand until you read the scriptures. The books. You love reading, you would love the books written by Templars."

Caterina was prepared to defend her cause as much as she needed to. It was her life now, and to her it made more sense than anything.

"I very much doubt that, sister," stated Chiara plainly, staring at the dirty white wall.

The wall made more sense than her sister. At least that left her in peace and did not bother to make pointless conversation.

"It would let you out of the cell," said Caterina, pulling out a key from her bosom.

"No."

"Think about it, _bambina_. Just one book. Read it and you will understand. Our aim is to gain utopia. We can only achieve that by ridding the world of assassins. Our methods seem cruel now, I see that, but it will all work out in the long run. Assassins don't care who they use and lose in their path to destroying us Templars. Once they are in control, they don't care about losing their sights on the needs of the people."

A thin veil of hesitation shrouded her thoughts. Chiara had never delved deep into Templar theories - what if it was wrong for her to doubt with such little knowledge?

"What will it be? Staying stuck in this cell for the rest of your life, or being a part of a better cause?"

"I think, the first."

"What?!" exclaimed Caterina.

Chiara wasn't convinced. She failed to understand how mass murder resolved anything.

"You heard right. I would rather rot in this cell for the rest of my years than be known for slaughtering innocents."

"But your freedom depends on it."

The key was being waved around frantically to prove a point. Caterina had an incredulous expression stuck on her face.

"Then I guess I will not get my freedom after all."

"You are incredibly stupid for doing this, Chiara."

"At least that makes one of us smart."

Caterina sighed. She tucked the key back into her dress.

"You have no idea how bad your life will be now as a Borgia prisoner."

Chiara shook her head, "You cannot convince me, sister. My mind is made."

"I am serious. Cesare will break you and bruise you. He will hurt you in every way possible."

"Remind me again why you care so much?" asked Chiara.

"I do not," scowled Caterina.

Chiara let out a deep breath, "Good."

"Just hear me out one more-" begged Caterina, desperate.

She wouldn't take no for an answer, which left an imprint on Chiara. It had dawned on her now that Caterina did indeed care for her safety. But it was too late now. The sooner Caterina realised that, the better.

"Adding my life to your list of allies will cost the lives of thousands more. Let Cesare do what he wants; there's only so much he can do."

Deep down inside, Chiara was scared. She had already seen the wrath of Cesare Borgia - he was unpredictable and she was sure he was full of worse surprises.

With a small shake of her head, Caterina stared long and hard at her little sister.

"I never thought I would see my little sister grow up to be so brave," she stated, before turning her back and leaving.

* * *

**Thank you guys for your ongoing support concerning this story. Each and every follow, favourite, alert, review, and even view makes my day.**


	10. Chapter 10

**One of the scenes in today's chapter may be slightly disturbing to some readers. Brace yourself! I know it may seemed rushed, but I doubt I'll have time to post one next week, so enjoy!**

* * *

After Chiara was left alone, all she could do was think. The first thing she wondered was why fate had been so cruel to her. Everything in her life was going perfectly fine and then with the blink of an eye, every bad thing which could happen, happened all at once. Monteriggioni was destroyed, she found out her sister was a Templar, her mother died, she became a courtesan and almost got raped; not just once but twice.

An unpleasantly cold draught flew around the cells and Chiara had no choice but to sit in one corner, hugging her knees in regret. She regretted leaving her mother in the first place. She regretted escaping her home in Milan. She regretted being stubborn enough to get involved with the assassin's affairs, which ultimately led to her imprisonment. The only good which came out of this was that her capture didn't disrupt the mission as the Banker had been killed. Ezio would have nothing to worry about because she was out of the way. Now he and Machiavelli could resume his work of destroying Cesare's papal funds completely. At least, that's what Chiara had thought.

Somewhere on the other side of the river Tiber, in the Assassin's Hideout, Machiavelli and Ezio were knee deep in confusion.

The first was pacing back and forth frantically whilst the latter sat at a table, elbow propped up with his head in his hands.

"We need to find her!"

Ezio sighed in exasperation, clearly annoyed, "I know. You have only said that, oh about a hundred times."

"But what do we do?"

"If you were able to keep quiet for one minute Niccolo, it would give me a chance to think peacefully."

"I am sorry," said Machiavelli, occasionally stopping to sit on a chair, and then standing back up again to continue walking. The hideout here was given to them by Fabio Orsini, Bartolomeo's cousin. It was decorated beautifully over the years with red and gold coverings emblazoned with the Assassin insignia, and shelves as high as the ceiling holding stacks of books. The only thing lacking in this place was the number of assassins. Ezio desperately needed to recruit more young men and women.

"Let us think about this calmly. I will inform Claudia to make sure her courtesan's keep their eyes and ears open for any information on Chiara's whereabouts. I trust you to do the same with La Volpe and his thieves."

Machiavelli narrowed his eagle eyes, "Do I have to? Are you even aware of how much he hates me?"

"Let this be a chance to amend things with him then."

"Fine," concluded Machiavelli on that matter, "And then? What if they hear nothing?"

"You have contacts all over the city. Try to get an associate inside the Castel Sant'Angelo. Everyone knows the Contessa resides there with Cesare. Maybe Chiara is there too."

"Alright. I will see what can I do. In the meantime, any news from Bartolomeo?" asked Machiavelli, finally able to sit still. He was concerned about Chiara's safety as much as Ezio was; perhaps even more. He had grown close to her during their time together at the Rosa Del Fiore. Daily, he would bring her news on her sister which hardly ever changed, even providing help on the brothel's financial situation. She was the first woman he felt anything for. His cynicism dwindled in her presence.

Ezio nodded, "_Si_. He wants me to meet him to discuss General Octavian."

"The French commander? The war between them never seems to end. How long has it been?"

Ezio shrugged his shoulder, thinking back to when he aided Bartolomeo with the downfall of Silvio Barbarigo.

"Three years, I think. Hopefully this time we can finish off the _bastardo francese _(French bastard)."

"_Buona fortuna, amico mio_ (Good luck, my friend)."

"_Grazie. _I will be off now. When there is any news of Chiara, let me know."

"Of course." said Machiavelli.

Ezio left the hideout swiftly through the underground tunnel and Machiavelli gathered a list of contacts associated with the Borgia's. He already had a young guard inside called Gianluca who he hadn't heard from in a while. He frequently came to La Volpe Addormentata when he was off duty, so now was the time to contact him.

Machiavelli rolled up his list and slipped it inside his coat. He then left for the thieve's guild through the same underground entrance Ezio had used. It was claustrophobic and smelled like a sewer but it was safer staying below, than being above on water where he could be easily seen.

At the pub, business was booming. It was a busy night now that the focus was lost on the Banker's parties and his protection. There were double the amount of guards than he had ever seen. Machiavelli spotted La Volpe in the game room, laughing whole-heartedly as he snatched money from drunken guards who had no idea how fast their money was disappearing.

"La Volpe. We need to talk," greeted Machiavelli as he approached the table.

"Try to win at least one game, my friends!" he yelled to the guards he stood up.

La Volpe led Machiavelli to the back room where the thieves lived.

"As you may already know, the Banker was killed at his pagan party."

"And Chiara Sforza was kidnapped," continued La Volpe, under his dark, droopy hood.

"Ezio asked if you would let your men be on the lookout for any news."

"And why would I do that? That girl is out of the picture. Now we can continue eliminating the rest of Cesare's first-hand men."

"She is important to the Brotherhood! Ezio specifically asked-"

"Are you sure? Or is she important to you?" remarked La Volpe snidely.

Machiavelli shook his head in disbelief, "Why do you distrust me so much? Chiara is important and Ezio needs any news he can get on her. God knows where she is now!"

"You're in love with her aren't you?" asked La Volpe, grinning.

He found it amusing to tease Machiavelli, especially because he got wound up too quickly.

"No."

"And now you're in denial."

"La Volpe, just trust me on this. The sooner we find her, the-"

"But she is useless to us. What can she do? She couldn't even play her role correctly when it came to killing Juan Borgia. If anything, she is more trouble."

"Forget it. I will find her myself," said Machiavelli.

"Have fun," shrugged La Volpe, dismissively.

Machiavelli stormed out of the backroom and found himself trapped in between guards and thieves who were drinking gleefully and losing themselves in idle chitchat.

Claustrophobia wound him up even further and as he struggled to find a seat, he heard someone call out his name.

"Pssst! Niccolo!"

He scanned the room for the voice and spotted young Gianluca in a corner, next to the door.

"Gianluca! I thought I would find you here. What news from the Castel?"

"Sigora Chiara is there, messer."

Machiavelli gained interest all of a sudden, "So Ezio was right. How is she?"

"I think Cesare hurt her," replied the young boy, sadness in his innocent eyes. "Her clothes were ripped and her cheeks were bruised when I took her down to the cells."

"No!" exclaimed Niccolo. He couldn't bear the thought of Cesare laying one finger on Chiara.

"I wish I could get her out, but I am afraid the number of guards has tripled. French guards do their duty here too."

"Is there any way inside for me?"

The guard shook his head, "The only way inside is to climb. Even then, you would need keys to access the many entrances of the Castel."

"Can you retrieve any one of those keys?" asked Machiavelli desperately.

"No. The Pope keeps one on him at all times as does Lucrezia. Cesare is too careless to even carry one."

"I am sorry. I think _messer_ Ezio would be the only able to climb in without arousing suspicion."

"Excuse me?" asked Niccolo, clearly offended.

"He _is_ the one who is more skilled at combat, isn't he?" asked the guard, hesitantly.

"All of us are skilled at combat. Ezio is merely a better acrobat," remarked Machiavelli coldly. The attention Ezio received was absurd. Everywhere you looked, people were constantly praising him. It was true that Machiavelli was jealous, but he often let it pass due to them being allies and even friends.

"That is what I meant. Are you going to tell him?"

Machiavelli nodded, "Of course! Since he is the best man for the job, I have no choice but to."

Gianluca frowned at Machiavelli's words but even so, reminded him that security was tight at the Castel and that it would prevent him from coming here often. After bidding him goodbye and leaving the pub, Machiavelli rubbed his chin, angrily.

"_More skilled_", he repeated the guard's words, "My foot."

He noticed from the corner of his eye that La Volpe had watched the whole thing. Machiavelli didn't even bother to give a nod in his direction and left the pub, on his way back to the Tiber Island hideout.

Back at the Castel Sant'Angelo, Chiara was being interrogated personally by Cesare because Caterina coming back from the cells empty-handed was simply not enough.

"I will ask you one last time, Chiara. _Where is the assassin's hideout?_"

"I told you I have no idea!" she shouted back.

Chiara was stood in the same office as the night before. The only thing in this room was a table in the corner with a map on it, a candle burning softly, and a few tapestries hung on high walls. The windows were too high to climb - it would be impossible to escape without three chairs or so stacked on top of one another. Caterina stood in one corner, providing no input to the interrogation.

"Okay, let us try another question. _What are the assassins planning_?"

Chiara repeated herself and denied knowing anything because it was indeed true. She had no idea what the assassins were planning against them.

"We have all the time in the world, darling. I made sure all my business for the night was handled prior to our little meeting."

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

"Only until you tell the truth."

Chiara clenched her fists and tried to stay calm and composed.

"Cesare, if I knew anything I would have told you by now. What have I got to lose by not telling you?"

This made Cesare ponder for a moment before nodding, "Good point but Caterina informed me of how much you care about the well-being of the Italian people. It is admirable, I admit."

He leaned inside closer and whispered in her ear, "Maybe that is why you won't tell me. You don't want to see these dumb citizens get hurt?"

"I honestly do not know anything about the assassins. They didn't tell me anything," replied Chiara, trembling. He shifted her unruly hair out of her eyes and smiled.

"Yet you somehow found your way into my brother's Pagan party?"

"That was one thing. They asked me to help on one occasion."

Cesare stopped smiling, "So you lied."

"Do you know what happens to liars here, Chiara?" asked Cesare.

She didn't say anything. Instead she glanced at Caterina who stood like a statue, emotionless and unmoving.

"I said, do you know what happens to liars here?" he roared, causing Chiara to whimper.

"No," she mumbled.

He unbuckled his belt and roughly pushed Chiara down to the floor.

"They get punished," he stated, taking off his pants. He kneeled over her with a never-ending maliciousness and pinned Chiara down with his whole body so she couldn't move. She let out a scream but he called her a bitch and told her to shut her mouth.

He groped her chest and lifted her skirt up above her legs. Cesare then wedged the tips of his fingers between her thighs and pushed. Chiara let out a blood-curling scream. It hurt. The sensation was unbelievably painful and she felt blood dribbling down her legs.

"Caterina!" she cried out to her sister who was paralysed on the spot, unable to look at the horrific sight in front of her.

"She won't do anything!" said Cesare breathlessly as he thrust himself inside Chiara. Caterina couldn't take it anymore and touched the door handle when Cesare forbid her from leaving. While Chiara felt agony, he felt pleasure. He yanked at her hair, surpressing a cry of delight at his victory. She felt good; a hundred times better than Caterina ever did. Chiara's fragility and her youth were assets. She was his age moreorless.

"Caterina, help me!" she yelled out again. The pain seared through her insides. It consumed her and she screamed again. Cesare was still moving on top of her, not letting the exhaustion stop him. His hands were getting clammy as he held her arms down. Chiara thought she was going to break his bones.

"Just tell him what he needs to hear..." said Caterina, unable to look her sister in the eyes. She had her back to them both, fists clenched. If she interfered, Cesare would hurt her too. She was too much of a coward to even sacrifice herself for her little sister.

Chiara continued screaming, tears streaming down her face, praying for it to end. She couldn't stop and her sister knew that those screams would haunt her for a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

Chiara was left on the ground like a broken toy after Cesare was done with her. She felt violated and shameful. Cesare had destroyed the only thing which meant something to her - something that was left untouched and unspoilt all these years. Now she was truly a whore.

Cesare told Caterina to take her down to the cells again, before regaining his breath and leaving the room, dressed. Caterina crouched down, about to hold her sister by the shoulders when Chiara flinched.

"Do not touch me!" she whispered, breath caught in her throat.

"I need to take you downstairs," replied Caterina blandly. Her guilt switch flicked on and off constantly in her mind. Now all she felt was bitterness towards Cesare Borgia for what he had done deliberately in front of her. Even her cowardice was more overpowering than courage.

She simply stated,"We will both be in trouble if I do not take you," and proceeded to hold Chiara again and lift her up. Her clothes were a sight to behold, covered in blood and tattered. Caterina decided she would need to slip down to the cells later and give a change of clothes to her sister. The girl struggled to stand straight and one attempt led her to let out a groan of pain to which her knees gave in.

"I c-c-can't," stuttered Chiara, trembling furiously on the floor.

The bitterness seeped back into Caterina's tone as she replied, "Well try harder!"

She used all her strength to support Chiara, putting one arm around her waist, leading her down the stairs slowly to the cells. Chiara staggered, feeling Cesare's exerting control over her regardless of the fact that he wasn't there anymore.

Her sister put her gently on the ground and then locked the cell, about to go when Chiara stopped her.

"W-why?"

Caterina didn't turn around but replied, "What?"

Chiara held herself tight, trying to rid herself of the pain she felt lower down, "Why did you let him do it?"

All the guilty thoughts from earlier swam back into Caterina's mind and she stared at the wall, feeling her sister's stare on her back.

"I was scared," she admitted, swallowing. It was true, she was scared of what Cesare would do to her. Although he had never attempted to rape Caterina, she had seen what he was capable of and how physically dominating he was.

"I-I'm your sister. Little sister..." stated Chiara, voice faltering. Her eyes shone with tears and her cheeks were flushed pink.

"And?" asked Caterina, turning around and shooting daggers with her eyes. She regained her composure in seconds and turned arrogant again.

"And..you..you're supposed to protect me,"

All of a sudden, Caterina saw a flash before her eyes of childhood memories; Chiara playing in the rose gardens with her, laughing and smiling while Caterina gave her orders to collect flowers playfully, pretending to be their mother. A rose thorn had prickled Chiara's finger. A tiny drop of blood came out but Chiara was crying as if it was the end of the world. Caterina had rushed over to her and pressed her dress ribbon to it.

"_Stop crying like a baby!_"

"_I want mama!_"

"_Madre is not home. You will be fine!_"

"_No, I won't. Only mama can protect me from these scary flowers!_"

"_Hey, I can too!_"

"_Really, sister?_"

"_Really, bambina. I will always protect you. I promise._"

Caterina felt herself being pulled away from the memory and back to the cell as Chiara broke her train of thought.

"You promised," she whispered.

Again detaching herself from her sister, she bluntly replied "That was a long long time ago," before hurrying up the stairs.

That was the last time Caterina would speak to her sister for a long time. She involved herself in foreign and militant affairs, avoiding Cesare except when he called for her. Their sexual relationship still continued. As aware as she was of Cesare continuing to rape Chiara, she purposely failed to do anything about it. Deep down, Caterina knew that facing Cesare directly would lead to undesirable consequences but how else could she make him stop? His overwhelming arrogance and greed for power was becoming stronger each day. The fact that Ezio was cleverly ridding Cesare of his financial aids didn't seem to affect him. He continued using Micheletto for his schemes, who in turn carried them out loyally without questions. Caterina even escaped to the countryside sometimes to visit her children who were equally as clueless about the situation in the Castel Sant'Angelo as Ezio. She spent literally every minute of her visit by their side, thinking of her sister constantly. She was trying to enjoy life because her children's happiness made her forget Cesare's diabolical needs, but their youth and innocent burned her sister's face in her mind. It was sleep-depriving.

Chiara too, was deprived of sleep. Every night, her nightmare would be relived and she would be thrown back into the cell as if she was worth absolutely nothing. As time went on, every sound in the night would be like a taunting demon, mocking her.

One day, when the pain was too much to bear and Chiara began to thrash wildly while Cesare raped her, he punched her without warning on her nose. The blood gushed down and Chiara squeezed her eyes shut to block out the feeling of dizziness. When she opened her eyes again, she was greeted to another punch, swinging into her left cheekbone.

Days went by. Her body was so damaged that Cesare's frequent acts of maltreatment went unnoticed. Her flesh was so numb that she gave up and succumbed to his sexual abuse.

"Quickly, drink up. I am not supposed to be here," said a female voice, bordering on a whisper one afternoon.

The candlelight was disturbing and induced a headache straight away. Chiara had to squint to see who was there. Everything was a blur but she could see that the woman in the distance was blonde.

"Hurry, before someone comes!"

Chiara crawled forward on her hands and knees, dirt-ridden and frail. The flask of water screamed out her name. She couldn't remember the last time she was offered a drink. As the cool water entered her system, she was able to breathe more levelly than before. She rubbed her eyes to see Lucrezia Borgia standing there looking nervous and spat out the water.

"What are you doing?!" asked Lucrezia in disgust.

"P-poison?" asked Chiara. There had always been rumours flying high about the Borgia's preferred method of disposing of their rivals - poison. It was rumoured that their favourite was cantarella which was odourless, tasteless and colourless meaning that it could easily be disguised in food and nobody would know. Maybe Cesare sent Lucrezia down to kill her. Maybe he had had enough. Oddly, Chiara would have been thankful if he _was_ out to kill her. She would rather have died than be used by him any longer.

Lucrezia narrowed her eyes, "No, silly girl. It is just water."

This confused Chiara.

"B-but..why? Why are you doing this?"

"Because," began Lucrezia sighing, "I am not a monstrous whore like everybody portrays me to be,"

"Incest..." stated Chiara, resuming drinking water from the flask. She almost spluttered when Lucrezia revealed the truth about the incest.

"For public purposes. I do not do it out of free will,"

Chiara placed the flask down and beheld Lucrezia Borgia, the blonde-haired beauty who every woman in Italy envied. She continued speaking.

"I figured I should tell you the truth at least. It is not like you can use any of this against me. The incest part is true, but only because Cesare and the Pope forced me to. You have seen how ruthless they are. I was made to entertain them, together and even individually. I had no choice. There is a reason I am still unmarried, Chiara. One is because hardly any men want me when they learn of these rumours. And two, because when a man does want me for who I truly am, Cesare's jealousy grows and he has the man killed."

Then, folding her arms, Lucrezia waited for a reaction but it was unlikely that she would get an uproar from Chiara.

She simply gulped and shook her head in disbelief.

"I..I can't believe it."

"Well believe it, you must. I pretend to be proud of being a Borgia, when in actual fact, I would rather have been born in the desolate streets. I am forced to act heartless in public otherwise Cesare and the Pope's image will be ruined and I will be the sole blame for it. Don't you see? It is all a facade. You think I like fucking a fat man who claims he has been appointed by God? Who constantly whispers ways in which he'd like to devour my beauty sexually while he's on top of me?"

Lucrezia seethed with anger the more she spoke about her brother and father. That confirmed to Chiara that she was indeed speaking the truth and not improvising a speech.

"I still do not understand..why..why do this?"

Lucrezia shook her head slightly, "I have given this much thought. I will not heed to those beast's calls anymore. If I cannot have what I want...then neither can they. They take all my loves away from me and now they will finally know what it feels like to have something precious taken away from them. You do not deserve to be a part of this. I will get you out."

"How?"

"I am not sure yet. But I will be back once I figure it out, _capisci_?"

Chiara nodded giddily, glad at the prospect of escaping this hellhole, as well as being blatantly surprised at how sincere Lucrezia seemed. Her portrayal of the two Borgia men didn't help with their initial impressions. They were inhumanly horrific and degradingly manipulative.

"Someone's coming!" exclaimed Lucrezia. She hid behind the pillar directly across the stairwell and in the shadows as a guard did his duty.

His eye caught the flask of water and he began to grill Chiara with questions. It was obvious that he was not the same guard Chiara was acquainted with - the young one who spoke to her with humbly and with respect.

"Where did you get that?!"

Chiara was stuck on the spot, unsure of how to answer the question. Admitting it was Lucrezia would get her into deep trouble; enough to prevent her from helping Chiara escape.

"I..I am not sure," she answered timidly. It was the worst possible answer she could gave, but also the most vague.

The guard roared, scaring Chiara with his piercing gaze, "Who gave it to you?"

"I saw..I saw it here in the morning."

Chiara was like a moth, absolutely fragile and jittery. She couldn't say a sentence properly without stammering.

"_Messer_ Cesare needs to hear about this. Don't move!" he ordered, before stamping away.

Like I have a choice, thought Chiara. Lucrezia slunk out of the shadows and saw how frightened Chiara was.

"I will distract Cesare, do not worry," she advised, before leaving too.

Meanwhile at the Tiber Island Hideout, Ezio had now arrived back home with a victory. He and Bartolomeo D'Alviani managed to defeat General Octavian, the Baron de Valois and gain Bartolomeo's wife Pantisilea who had been kidnapped at a ransom. The success brought a new sense of hope to the assassin's cause as Bartolomeo willingly gave some of his best mercenaries to be trained by Ezio's hands.

However, there was no use in reveling in the triumph as more pressing matters needed to be resolved such as Chiara's kidnap.

"Niccolo, did you do as I told you to?" he asked, after Bartolomeo left to go back home.

Machiavelli, who was sat writing non-stop at one of the tables, looked up and shook his head.

"La Volpe refused to send his men for news. He said that there was no use in finding Chiara as she was no longer a distraction for our cause."

Ezio rubbed his temple in anxiety.

"I should have known La Volpe would be hard to convince. What about your contacts throughout the city?"

"I have a Borgia guard in the Castel Sant'Angelo itself."

His eyes lit up, "And?"

Machiavelli shook his head and lied through his teeth, "No news. He says that Chiara is not at the Castel."

"But, where else could she possibly be?! Every one of the Borgia's accommodate that castle!"

Machiavelli dipped his quill in ink too quickly, spilling it over his paper. His guilty conscience was getting the better of him. He wondered how long he would be able to keep up this lie.

"_Si_. That is what I thought too, but apparently not. Chiara is not there. You should look somewhere else."

* * *

**It's short - my sincere apologies. It's 3am and I had a long day but didn't want to disappoint you guys. So what did you think of Machiavelli's straight-out lie?! What are his motives? Comment and review! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the delay, yet again! I know I make a lot of excuses, but I was in London for three days and guess what? I spotted the Templar cross on one of the monarch's throne! Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Ezio observed Machiavelli's body language closely.

"What is wrong, Niccolo?"

"Nothing," he said, "Nothing is wrong. I am just worried about Chiara, that is all."

He finished writing and slammed his book shut.

"Niccolo-"

"I am fine!" he almost yelled, exhaling deeply and rushing out of the room.

Strange, thought Ezio. Chiara's disappearance couldn't possibly upset him so much. Unless it was more than that. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged the thought away. Machiavelli had always shown misogynistic attitudes in front of him - Ezio doubted whether Machiavelli could ever feel something real for Chiara. Deep down, he wished he didn't.

"Am I envious…towards Niccolo?" muttered Ezio to himself questionably.

He shook his head in bewilderment and left to find his sister.

On arrival at the Rosa Del Fiore, Claudia greeted her brother frowning and hugging him at the same time.

"_Salve_, Ezio. There is still no news of Chiara, I am afraid. Two of my courtesans have tried to get inside the Castel Sant'Angelo but apparently Cesare has no need for them anymore."

Ezio broke off from the hug and replied rather bitterly, "I am not surprised. Caterina is there, remember? Of course he has no use for more girls..."

"Ezio..." started Claudia sympathetically. She was about to lay one hand on his shoulder when he turned his back.

"Claudia, I will be damned if I feel anything more than hatred for that woman."

How long had he wasted lusting after a woman of such calibre? At first it was just harmless flirting but Ezio wanted more. He had always wanted more. It seemed as if she did too, but in the end it didn't even matter. All Caterina did was lead him on and he followed her every move like he was her shadow. She always smelled like vanilla. Vanilla and roses, thought Ezio as he distinctly remembered their nights together.

"What about Chiara?" asked Claudia, breaking his train of thought.

Oddly, his thoughts pieced themselves together and shifted to her. He had never given her much though; Chiara - who was so much more different to her sister. Caterina was strong and fierce - capable of leading men into battle better than many bold men Ezio knew. Chiara was similar, but the absolutely opposite. She was strong but a free spirit. She spoke out for what she believed in. She wasn't the type to march into battle but the one who would rather have locked herself in a room full of books. Her smile was sincere and the way she carried herself made him feel free. Ezio saw freedom in Chiara - something he yearned. This search for answers made him weary. He wasted all his time on the Borgia's, only to find himself back where he had started.

Ezio didn't turn and keeping his back towards his sister, replied quietly, "What about her? I never said I had feelings to-"

"I was going to ask if you knew anything more about her state," she replied awkwardly. Ezio turned around and faced his honest little sister.

"Oh."

"You obviously have some deeper issues in mind, _fratello _(brother). Tell me what it is."

"What can I say, Claudia? Every woman I love, I lose. First it was Cristina, then Caterina and now Chiara."

Claudia's interest grew and she smiled sadly, "Chiara may be a keeper."

She would never understand his loss fully as the only person she loved was the filthy Duccio. Back then, she was naive and barely a teenager. Even then, Ezio had been there to make her feel better. He threatened Duccio never to come near Claudia again.

"Maybe. If I can ever find her."

"Don't give up hope, my dear brother. I will not let you lose her as well," consoled Claudia.

She gave his hand a little squeeze in reassurance and bid him goodbye.

More weeks had passed and nothing new had been discovered. Machiavelli remained hidden in the shadows with his lie and he was surprised he could still keep up his act.

In the meantime, Ezio found another one of Cesare's right-hand men, Michelotto Corella. He was a _condottiero_ who was so boundlessly devoted to Cesare that he would loyally kill anyone he asked. Ezio was close to killing him but in the end spared him, informing him that his desire of empowering Cesare would result in his own downfall. He regretted it later and blamed it on his distraction regarding Chiara. The more he looked for answers, the less he found.

One night, after the brothel was closed for the day, Claudia sat in the office with her head in her hands. She struggled to think of more ways in which she could dig out news on Chiara's whereabouts. Machiavelli didn't have any news and as far as she knew, the two courtesans found nothing. She thought of venturing to the Castello herself, just to get inside but then realised that nobody else was suited to managing her job here.

Claudia was about to blow her candle out and leave when she heard a quick rap on her door. Instinctively pulling out her dagger, she raised her voice.

"We are closed for the night."

"_Madonna_! I have a letter for you!" whispered a frantic male voice.

Keeping a tight grip on the dagger, she tiptoed to the door and leaned against it.

"Who is it?"

"My name is Gianluca. I mean no harm."

Claudia opened the door slightly and peeked through. Standing there was a young guard, red-faced and exhausted, holding a rolled up letter.

"_Messer_ Ezio never showed up at _Castello _(Castle) so I was beginning to worry about signora Sforza's health. I have not heard from Messer Niccolo either."

"_Castello_?"

"Castel Sant'Angelo, _Madonna_!"

"What has Ezio and Caterina got to do with that?" asked Claudia, narrowing her eyes. For a second, she feared this was a trap.

"Not Caterina. Her sister, Chiara."

The name made Claudia freeze. She opened the door properly and demanded more answers from the guard who looked like he couldn't stand still.

"I have to get back before the other guards notice I have disappeared. Chiara's condition has been explained in this letter," he stated before thrusting the letter in Claudia's hand and disappearing into the darkness.

Quickly locking the door, she sat back at her table and held the letter open under the candlelight. It was addressed to Machiavelli. Claudia skim-read the letter and dropped it, clamping her mouth to repress a cry. Her head filled with vivid images of the brutal violence she had just read about.

The letter mentioned rape and blood more times than her mind could register. What shocked her even further was that Machiavelli knew about this. For weeks, he had lied to Ezio's face. There was no way Claudia could contact him now. Unless she attempted to reach the Tiber Island hideout at this time of night.

Throwing on a hooded cloak, Claudia left a note on her table saying she had gone out to get supplies in case of her girls came for her in the morning. She slipped in and out of the shadows until she reached the tunnel which was engraved with the words _'Senatus Populusque Romanus'_.

Being cautious about guards, she opened the latch slowly and stepped through the tunnel.

It was even darker in the dead of night with wall torches being scarce.

"Ezio!" she yelled, the second she entered the hideout. The light made her eyes sting after a dark walk through the tunnel and her watery eyes caused concern from Machiavelli who was the first person she saw run into the main hall.

"Claudia! You're crying! What is wrong?" he asked, walking closer.

Claudia shook her head and pointed her finger at Machiavelli, accusingly, "Don't you dare take another step forward Machiavelli!"

"What is going on, Claudia?!"

She ignored him and cried out desperately for her brother again, "Ezio! Come out!"

A fatigued Ezio came out from one of the rooms to her left, "Claudia? Do you have any idea what time it is?" he scolded.

"Ezio, I..I received a letter about Chiara!" said Claudia, holding up the letter from Gianluca.

"What? Is she alright?" exclaimed Ezio, rushing over and grabbing it out of her hand. His heart jumped in joy at the news but Claudia's tearstained face seemed to answer his question for him.

As he took his time to read the letter, Machiavelli stood in the corner, frozen in position. He was in deep trouble and his actions would definitely threaten his friendship with Ezio.

"You lied to me?" asked Ezio, wheeling around to face the man he had now turned from friend, to foe.

Machiavelli stood there, lump in his throat.

"All this time you knew where she was and you did not have the decency to tell me?"

"That is right," he replied.

Ezio shook the letter in Machiavelli's face, "Read it for yourself. Read what has happened to her!"

The rage he felt towards Caterina amounted to nothing when compared to what his ally had done. All this time, he had been running back and forth, crazy for even a hint of a clue as to where Chiara was, and here was Machiavelli pretending like nothing had happened. At one point, he even considered abandoning his mission with Bartolomeo to concentrate on Chiara.

Ezio threw the letter in Machiavelli's face, who in turn didn't bother to pick it up off the floor.

"She was abused constantly, Niccolo! Cut, kicked, raped! God knows what else that bastard did to her! Why? Why did you do it?"

"I had my reasons."

"Oh, enlighten me then, my friend. "

"I am in love with Chiara," revealed Machiavelli.

Ezio sighed, "And that was enough reason for you to leave her in the Borgia's company?"

"No! No, of course not. I thought…I wanted to be the one to rescue her from the _Castello_."

"Then why didn't you? You're an assassin, aren't you? Isn't rescuing people part of your job?" spat Ezio angrily.

"I knew that if I told you where she was, you would live up to everybody's expectation and save her. You would be the hero and she would love you for it. I could not let that happen."

Claudia laughed nervously, "You, Machiavelli, are a coward."

"This is a matter of life and death!" shouted Ezio. He grabbed Machiavelli by his collar and his eyes burned with anger.

"I know. I planned on going to the Castello while you were away, Ezio. But I did not have the resources to do so…I am sorry."

"You mean the courage to do so," remarked Claudia, wiping the tears from her face. She never really liked Machiavelli but put up with him because she knew how valuable of an asset he was to the Brotherhood and how much Chiara trusted him. Now she knew better than to believe a word which came out of his thin-lipped mouth.

"It is not me you should be sorry to. You have stooped lower than the Borgia scum themselves. I never expected this from someone like you."

"She will hate you after this. Were you aware of that?" questioned Claudia quietly.

Machiavelli nodded and Ezio picked up the letter from the ground, pushing it onto his chest.

"I dare you to read it, Niccolo. Then you will realise how much of a mistake you have made." stated Ezio, before leading Claudia down to a room by the shoulders. He comforted his little sister and vowed to save Chiara, whatever came his way.

He went back to the main hall and to see Niccolo on his knees, grimacing at the letter. Ezio said he was going to the Castel Sant'Angelo.

"I will come with you," said Machiavelli, offering his help.

"No. You have caused enough trouble as it is,"

"But you do not know how to find your way inside."

"At least I can say I tried, which is much more than you could ever do."

That sentence shut Machiavelli up who sighed and watched Ezio leave the hideout.

The night was still progressing but the Castello was far. By the time Ezio would be able to reach it, dawn would soon be approaching and he would be able to scale the walls freely.

Contrary to Lucrezia's words, Chiara was not freed that night, many many weeks ago. In fact, Chiara had not heard from Lucrezia since that day and she felt a strange longing to see Ezio again; even Machiavelli. In spite of her seemingly kind gesture, Chiara should have conceived that getting her hopes up was a severe waste of time. She was a Borgia - of course she would lie.

Cesare's methods of abuse by this time had gone to extremes. He took pleasure in adding insult to the injuries. His masochistic desires went overboard and he began to cut Chiara during their sexual encounters - a drop of blood would be enough to make him smile. Chiara's cries for help would drive him even further.

When he was done with her, she would be thrown back in the cell again, until the next day.

The seasons changed. The unwelcoming heat made living in the cells all the more difficult. Chiara's head throbbed due to the humidity and on occasion, she found herself waking up from fainting spells during the day.

And then one day, Lucrezia came back for her. She was dressed much simpler than normal. Instead of adorning her usual bright gold cross necklace and intricately detailed blood-red gowns, she wore a pale blue dress with a white border on the cuffs of her sleeves. The neck was revealing and open, of course.

"Chiara!" she greeted, clasping Chiara's hands warmly.

"You...you never came back for me."

Lucrezia's smile turned into a frown, "Yes. I am truly sorry for that."

"You are all the same…"

Lucrezia irately denied it, "No, we are not. My father sent me away. I almost became a nun. But I am back now."

"Get me...get me out. Please," begged Chiara. She could not take it any longer. Her body ached for comfort and for some nourishment.

Lucrezia spoke eagerly and showed Chiara the key, "That is why I am here. You have a visitor too."

"Not my sister, please…" she pleaded.

Instead, her eyes met a flat out shock. The visitor walked inside. It was the man her heart ached to see for months. No words could describe how relieved she felt. Just seeing his face was like taking an analgesic - her mental anguish alleviated just like that.

"Chiara? I cannot believe it…" said Ezio in disbelief, walking closer.


	13. Chapter 13

On closer inspection, the woman sat in front of him was quite brutally, a sight for sore eyes. Her skin was bruised black and blue with angry crimson gashes etched into her hands and even on her cheek. Her matted hair was plastered to her face in the sweltering heat and her eyes were filled with hopefulness. But her eyes also contained a glimpse of terror. Ezio could not even imagine for a second what Chiara had been through. The words he had read in Gianluca's letter vividly flashed in his mind; rape, blood, cutting, hitting, and the clearest one of all was 'mercy'. Chiara had constantly begged for mercy but had been given none. She had nothing more to give to anybody as her only aspect of innocence was snatched away grotesquely by a ambitious man who honestly believed that one day he would rule all of Italy. He was so blindly driven by his desire for power that it gave him motivation not to give up, even when his resources were disappearing quickly. This ruthlessness made Ezio wonder whether he was the epitome of the devil himself.

"Ezio?" asked Chiara, struggling to crawl forward. Her head was swooping with dizziness and she felt another fainting spell coming up. The raw cuts stinging due to the musty air in the cell was forgotten for the time being as Chiara stared at Ezio. She had to be one hundred percent certain that this was not just another desperate dream for escapism but reality. It had to be. A part of her was afraid that she would do something utterly reckless like killing herself if she had to endure the torment of Cesare moving inside her again.

"Yes. Yes, it's me," replied Ezio. He didn't know how to react and was afraid of saying something out of line. All he knew was he had to get Chiara out of this hellhole as soon as possible.

Chiara tried to smile but her muscles gave up on her, "You...you are really here,"

The carefree mutual attraction shared by them at one point had now changed. It was still there but by now it had filled with grave seriousness. The feelings were stronger and brought on the urge to be there for each other further than ever before.

Ezio bit his lip anxiously and nodded, looking over to Lucrezia.

"We should go before the guards switch duties."

Lucrezia obeyed her orders willingly and fiddled with the complex lock for a few minutes before unlocking it. Both she and Ezio rushed to Chiara's side and picked her up by her arms. The bruised streaks of purple caused Ezio to turn his head but they were everywhere. They left lasting images fresh in his mind even as he stared at the off-white walls of the cell. If he could kill Niccolo, he would not have spared a moment to do so but he was an ally - one who had very significant contacts all over the country. Many times they had proved useful and to abandon Niccolo now would mean stooping to his level - one thing Ezio was prepared never to do. Vengeance was never the logical solution, but a desire triggered by spur-of-the-moment emotions running wild. Seeing Chiara in her fragile state would be punishment enough for Machiavelli.

At Ezio's touch, Chiara flinched ever so slightly. She tried to hide her feelings even though there was nothing to fear in Ezio's presence but tiredly couldn't resist.

"Am I hurting you?" asked Ezio softly. His eyes were a hint darker than golden brown and it was full of genuine concern. Lucrezia lifted one of Chiara's arms and examined the injuries. The more severe of the bruises was on the arm she held; blotchy and swollen. Chiara quickly explained herself after shaking off Ezio's hands on her.

"No. It is just...I am not ready for...I don't feel comf-"  
She stopped mid-sentence after Ezio's confused look made her rephrase her thoughts.

Deep breath, she thought and stated, "I'm..I am scared."

To her surprise, Ezio nodded sympathetically and tried to be as courteous as he could, "I will be gentle with you. I promise."

Still, Chiara was committed to her decisions.

"I'm not ready, Ezio. Not ready for...for a man to-"

"I assure you, I understand fully," he concluded and left Lucrezia to deal with her.

Mentally, he was pressing for time in case they faced more troubles on their way back but physically, he didn't bother saying anything as Chiara was in a troubled condition as it was. She slowly trudged up the stairs leading to the grandiose and carefully-decorated hallways of the Castel when Lucrezia stopped them both.

"I believe the guards have changed their duties now. Let me see if I can distract them."

She placed Chiara down behind a towering, marble statue of a Roman emperor and instantly changed her personality to the snappy Lucrezia Borgia the outside world knew.

"What are you still doing here?" she questioned loudly to an alarmed Borgia guard who replied, "The guard posts have changed, _Madonna_. My duties are carried out at dawn."

"My father sent a message around, did you not hear it? He demanded the presence of all the guards along the hallways and mentioned something about sightings of the Assassin," lied Lucrezia. She was a natural and years of practice made her effortless.

The guard still held his suspicions and asked, "_Madonna_ Lucrezia, are you sure? I saw him-"

"Yes! Kindly inform the rest of the guards on your way downstairs!" she shrieked, "Please."

By now, the guard was taken aback by Lucrezia's demanding tone of voice and did as he was told after bowing. Lucrezia tilted her chin upwards and smiled at her success. She approached the statue and the three of them started walking down the empty hallway. Lucrezia wedged herself between Ezio and Chiara, helping the latter walk and then heard thundering footsteps approaching as she neared her bedroom.

"She said what?" exclaimed Lucrezia's father, Pope Alexander.

"Apparently you wanted to see all of us regarding the Assassin."

"No, no. I never said such a thing. I will speak to her myself, you are dismissed."

"_Si_, your Holiness."

Fear crept into Lucrezia's mind. Was she losing her knack of convincing lies already? She left Chiara to fend for herself and ran to unlock the big white doors to her bedroom.

"Wait!" said Chiara, but before she had a chance to repeat herself louder, she felt Ezio scoop her up from the carpeted floor. She was as light as a feather but her back ached. She flapped her arms wildly and struggled to make him let go. Ezio kept a determined hold on her and apologised,

"_Mi dispiace_ but we have to hurry. Please understand."

He walked as fast as he could, making sure Chiara felt no extra pain in his arms. She gave up putting extraneous pressure on herself and let herself be carried. Being carried by Ezio felt far different from a guard. For one, Ezio was a nicer man. Moreover, he was taking her away from the torture as opposed to the guard who was ordered by Cesare to bring his late night entertainment to him.  
Lucrezia thrust the door wide open and let Ezio enter holding Chiara.

"I have a plan but you have to hide behind the door. I will leave one of them open but you cannot move or make a sound._ Capisci_?" she ordered breathlessly, before pulling out a tiny vial of transparent liquid from her bodice. She unscrewed the top and poured a staggering amount inside a glass of wine.

"What sort of a plan?" asked Ezio but the Pope's presence was becoming clearer so he rushed into position.

He knocked on the open door but stormed inside his daughter's room anyway without permission, leaving a hooded acquaintance waiting outside.  
"Lucrezia, why are you wasting my time by playing silly games?"

Turning from the table, she put on a sad smile and feigned innocence, "Father, I needed to speak to you urgently. After becoming Pope, you are ever so busy. You never have time for me anymore."

The Pope continued to glare but a smile crept up on his lips and he signaled for the hooded man to leave, thinking that nothing out of the ordinary would arise out of the conversation, "My dear, I will always have time for you. Tell me, what is on your mind?"

"Well...it is about my view on my marriages. Have a drink, father. I hope it will make you less inclined to reject my views."

The Pope raised an eyebrow but offered his hand and Lucrezia gave him the glass of brilliantly blood-red wine she poured before he came. Then, she reluctantly poured another glass for herself not to arouse suspicion. She put on a facade and spun another web of lies which were partly true, expressing her opinions about wanting to marry out of love and not political alliances. The Pope held his glass of wine but didn't drink. Lucrezia drank hers once in a while, hoping it would make her father drink too. The conversation continued and moved onto the topic of Alfonso of Aragon - a potential candidate for Lucrezia. He came from a respectable family and the alliegiance gained from the marriage would strengthen the Borgia's position.

After a while, Ezio's arms were aching. He remained in hiding behind the door holding Chiara, without the faintest idea of what Lucrezia expected to happen.

"Alfonso does seem like a gentleman..." said Lucrezia, deep in thought.

"_Si_, my dear Lucrezia. I am sure he would make you the happiest woman in all of Italy."

"Alright. You have made me change my mind. I will marry Alfonso to make you happy."

"And to make yourself happy, also?" questioned the Pope.

Lucrezia nodded giddily and raised her glass, "Si, that too. To a lasting marriage, your beloved Holiness."

Unaware of what was coming, the Pope raised his glass delightfully and drank the whole glass in one gulp.

"Careful, father," warned Lucrezia.

"I am too happy to be careful!" he exclaimed. Finally, he had made Lucrezia see sense. As much as he loved his beautiful daughter, the political gains for the Borgia name were more important. Lucrezia was young; she could find plenty of men in the future who would satisfy her.  
But he wouldn't be around to see that happen because as soon as he thought of his desire for power, he felt something tickle his throat inside. That tickle turned into an agonising burning sensation which made him clutch his throat. His bright blue eyes blinked in confusion and he stretched his head to see where a sudden gasp came from. It was Chiara who couldn't contain her shock, still in Ezio's arms.

"Auditore? You..you.."

"No, my dear father. It was me. I poisoned you." admitted Lucrezia boldly. A loud thud resulted from the Pope collapsing to the ground at Lucrezia's feet. She in turn stepped over his body casually and almost dismissively. She had tears in her eyes and her body trembled, regretting her actions for a split-second. The process of poisoning was unusually slow and ironically, Lucrezia felt tortured watching her father die slowly. She stood by her decision to kill him. For many years she was simply a political tool. Her beauty was now a part of her she loathed. No longer did she consider it a positive thing. Next to her feet, the Pope broke out into sweat and his eyes rolled. Foam began to spill out of his mouth, making it harder for Lucrezia to look at.

Ezio knew that ending the Pope's pain would be the most reasonable solution. He lay Chiara on the rug and leaned over the Pope, exposing his hidden blade.  
He waited for a response from Lucrezia who nodded in between her sobs and finally lay Rodrigo Borgia to rest by plunging the blade into his heart.

"Your own daughter had the explicit courage to do what I could not._ Requiescat in pace_."

What should have felt like a new dawn of hope, felt like a bitter disappointment. For years he imagined what it would have felt like to rid the world of the bastardo who had killed his father and brothers but now he could imagine his father scolding him for letting his emotions control his reason.

"It is done. You can go now," stated Lucrezia, pointing towards the single door which led to the garden created for her personal use.

Ezio wanted to talk her through what had just happened and convince her that it was for the good of humanity, but this was her father. It took a lot more than courage to do what Lucrezia had just done.

"Lucrezia, I-" began Chiara from the corner of the room behind the door. She felt remorse, inside and out with tears in her own eyes not for the man she never knew but for Lucrezia's strong will.

"Speak no more of this matter and do not thank me, Chiara. I have sinned against God and severe consequences lie for me in store. Now go, before the guards see you."

* * *

**As always, I am grateful for every follower, story alert, author alert and favourite I get for this fanfic. Anything that sparked your interest - feel free to let me know! Bet you're glad I kept my promise about definitely posting today!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Not very action-packed, I'm afraid. I realise after writing this chapter that the pace is kinda slow; bearing in mind I skipped a lot of months while Chiara was being abused. I'll try to speed it up in the next chapter! I'm sure you'll be bored by the end of it! Kidding, you had better not be bored. **

**Enjoy! **

* * *

She turned her back and fumbled with the vial of poison she had used to kill her father. "It is all I could do to help,"

"_Grazie_,"

"Actually there is more. I can tell you everything I know about Cesare's future plans and his tactics when the issue arises of keeping victims in the Castello. It is not much but it may help."

She slowly shut the open bedroom door and locked it. Then she motioned for Ezio to go out into the garden. Chiara was curious as to why wasn't allowed to know. She made a sound and raised her eyebrows.

"It will be painful to hear, Chiara. Not after everything you have been through,"

"But-"

"I do not want to hurt you even further, Madonna. This will only take a minute."

If she wasn't in an exhausted position, Chiara would have retorted. Lucrezia didn't realise that Chiara had been through the worst - there was nothing she could not already handle. Her psychotic brother had made sure of that.

When Lucrezia and Ezio left through the garden door, Chiara couldn't help but stare at the Pope's body in disgust and curiosity. The man had it coming. He corrupted the papacy and used his own children as tools. For a man of God, he was as sinful as could be. The foam resulting from the poison continued dripping from the corner of his crooked mouth. The effects of the it were painstakingly torturous. Would she ever be able to make use of it herself?  
Chiara took a chance to shift herself along the floor, until she reached the table with the vial and wine. To her advantage, Ezio and Lucrezia were taking longer than they had said and it gave Chiara the opportunity to do something she would never dream of doing. The sound of the door unlocking alerted her that they were done. She sat back on the floor, avoiding the Pope's puddle of foam and took a sip from Lucrezia's glass of wine.

"My apologies. I was...I was thirsty," she lied.

Lucrezia shook her head, "If anything, I am sorry. It is alright."

With a few long strides, Ezio came to Chiara's side and unusually asked for permission to pick her up.  
"We should go. May I?"

"Of course."

He effortlessly picked her up in his arms and Lucrezia stood by the door, leading them out until something caught her eye. The vial of poison was missing from her bedside table. Although it only contained just a little more than a few drops, it was enough to kill a person.

"Hold on," she stopped Ezio, "Where is..."  
He asked her what it was and Chiara slowly shook her head in his arms, avoiding Ezio's gaze. The pleading look in her eyes revealed the truth. Chiara had taken the vial. She must have slipped it inside her bodice when they were out talking. Lucrezia had no use for it anymore but it still made her wonder what an innocent young woman like Chiara needed it for. The more important question was who, but Lucrezia didn't want to keep them here any longer. As soon as they were gone, she would need to hide the body and somehow break the news to Cesare hoping he wouldn't lash out. It was a long shot but excuses had to be made.

"Nothing. Hurry. There is a small tunnel to your left, behind the pots of bellflower which lead to the bank of the river. You can either continue walking to cross the waters from under, or take a boat. I warn you, the walk is long."

The tunnel was designed especially for Lucrezia's secret meetings. She could slip people in and out with detection.

"That is useful. _Grazie_ from the bottom of our hearts, Madonna Lucrezia," said Ezio. He doubted whether Lucrezia realised how much time she had saved him. With Pope Alexander out of the picture, the focus would now be on Cesare only. This would inevitably weaken his position even further.

Lucrezia tried to smile and placed her hand on Chiara's. "My only wish is that I could have helped you earlier."

"You..you cannot blame yourself for that. You are kind. If only Italia..if only Cesare let Italia see that side of you."  
Chiara squeezed Lucrezia's hand in gratefulness and bid her goodbye.

When they stepped into the flower garden, Chiara took in a huge intake of breath. The fresh air had never been more exhilarating than at that moment. She hadn't seen daylight since the Juan Borgia the Elder's pagan party and even then, she wasn't outside to enjoy the joys of nature.  
There must have been more than ten different flowers - from del papas, bougainvillea and jasmines to bellflowers and roses.

"Chiara, can I ask you something?" asked Ezio suddenly.

"Of course. What...what is it you want to ask?" replied Chiara. She immediately thought of the most radical ideas of what he could ask like 'Do you love me' or anything absurd along those lines. She had the most odd sensations ever since she saw him again. It was almost as if she saw him in a new light but concluded that she had been trapped for months in a castle where the only face she saw all the time was Cesare's so it was natural for her to see a friendly face. When would she be able to get over the hurt he caused? Cesare's face was fresh in her mind still, as if he was stood in front of her with a malignant snarl on his bearded face. Behind that facade, she knew he was just a young man who wanted nothing more than his father's praise. The way his face dropped when his father commented patronisingly in front of them both was proof enough.

"I am no expert when it comes to picking flowers,"

"That wasn't a question." retorted Chiara, a faint smile playing on her lips. When was the last time she had the urge to smile?

Ezio noticed it, as faint as it was and decided to poke some fun while he could.

"I am more of an expert when it comes women," he claimed, examining the garden. Chiara narrowed her eyes, clearly seeing a comment like that coming.

"There. They are there," she simply said pointing her finger at a pot of lilac coloured flowers. Even in a situation such as this, Ezio could find himself to let loose his boyish charms. Whether he was doing it to attempt to cheer her up or make her jealous, she would never know.

"What is?"

"The...the bellflowers."

Chiara swore the assassin blushed, slapping himself mentally for his flirtatious side speaking. He kicked aside the clay pot containing the bellflowers and there lay the entrance to Chiara's escape. She braced herself for the outside world which when pictured in her head was unfamiliar and dangerous territory. Without warning, her heart began to pound against her chest. Words echoed inside her head and she gave in to the panic attack.

"I cannot do it!" she gasped. Ezio's eyes turned from playful to serious the second he stepped into the tunnel.

"Chiara, it is just a tunnel. I am carrying you."

"Ezio...Ezio I cannot face it. The world...the people. What will people say? What am I going to do? Where am I going to go? The brothel...being a courtesan. I cannot do it! Please don't make me do it!"

She began to stammer, babbling incessantly. Jumbled thoughts ran in and out of her head and she banged her fists against her forehead.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," said Ezio clasping her hand, "You will stay with me. With us, in the assassin hideout. I promise, nobody will make you do things you do not want to,"

Ezio felt pity for Chiara - entrapped in a cell for months was unhealthy but above all, frightening.

"Machiavelli! How will I face...face Niccolo? I am a mess! Claudia! She is...was a good friend. Now what will she think?"

Now Ezio was definitely concerned about Chiara. She was so innocent yet so fragile. Her paranoia made him feel helpless He lifted her chin and made sure his gaze was fixed with hers.

"Chiara, listen! Do not worry about Machiavelli. I will deal with him. Claudia too. She will take care of you. We all will. You just...you just need to take a deep breath, _mia cara signora_ (my dear lady). We will get out of here as soon as possible."

Ezio had reached the peak of sympathy by this point because the poor girl genuinely cared about what her betrayer would think. Machiavelli's lies would cost him the woman he loved. He carried on walking through the dark tunnel. It was cold and surprisingly the air was very clear. Chiara was breathing in and out as he walked but she trembled greatly. It was obvious that she was trying to stay calm but the anxiety was overpowering and Ezio did not have any idea on how to comfort her. Any action he could take would be out of place and inappropriate. The trip to the river bank was quick but the sun had risen and it was noon. Rowing a boat with a beaten up young woman would be the most suspicious way of getting to the hideout. It would put Borgia guards on his case like there was no tomorrow.

The tunnel it is, he concluded as he scanned the crowds of civilians from behind a wall. He approached one of the hideout tunnel's iron gates and slipped inside it, utterly grateful that he and his allies had discovered them when they did. Otherwise, he would have to take the risk of walking in public.  
It was going to be a long journey back to the hideout through the dark tunnel but Chiara was calm and it made things much easier. He needed to use one of his hands to trace the walls of the tunnel but he couldn't; not with the way he was carrying Chiara.

"Do you...do you mind if I put you over my shoulder instead, Chiara? I cannot find the walls without the use of both hands,"  
There was a five second pause and Chiara agreed with wary. Being ever so careful, Ezio shifted his position and gently placed Chiara on his shoulder, freeing one of his hands. Then, tracing the bricks of the tunnel, he resumed walking.

"I never asked..." started Chiara in the dark after a while. The question she wanted to ask had bothered her for some time.

_"Si?"_

"How did you...why did it take you so long to find me?"

There was another pause but it was much longer than five seconds. Ezio wanted to lie to Chiara, desperately. He wanted to make an excuse and not admit that it was all Machiavelli's doing. Telling her the truth would break her and she was much too fragile for him to let that happen. He did not know how to lie directly.

"Please tell me," Chiara pleaded with desperation in her timid voice.

"I cannot. The vital thing is that I did find you. Whether it be now, or even weeks into the future."  
The warmth of Chiara's body against his sparked up emotions inside him he had long forgotten. He was close to telling her everything but he had to resist; for her sake.

"I beg of you. You owe me the truth, at least. Please!" she begged. Her head throbbed with a hammering ache especially now that she was no longer resting it in Ezio's arms but hanging off his shoulder.

"Why are you so stubborn, Chiara?" asked Ezio. He stopped walking to clear his head. The acceleration of walking kept the flood levels of emotions at a standstill.

"Did you forget about me?"

He despised this sudden interrogation,"Why can't you just thank me and get over it?"

But Chiara was determined. She would get an answer out of him one way or another.  
"...or maybe you came for another reason. Lucrezia?"

"A Borgia? I would rather die than-"

"She saved me! I owe her...I owe her my life," defended Chiara. Now that Lucrezia's true colours had been shown, she would see her in nothing more than a positive light.

Chiara had another answer on her mind - one which she dreaded to say. One which she knew Ezio would dread to hear too.  
"Caterina?"

"I learned my lesson with that one when my uncle's head was on a stick, _grazie_," replied Ezio with a bitterness Chiara had never detected before.

"I give up," sighed Chiara, admitting defeat.

Ezio concluded the matter almost annoyingly, "Good."  
He did not like his personal matters being discussed, especially with a girl who was a potential candidate in placing herself in those exact matters. The rest of the walk proceeded in silence because unbeknownst to Ezio, Chiara had fallen asleep on his shoulder and her head lolled to one side. The heat was becoming unbearable especially with the full armor on. "It is hot in here. Are you alright?"

He received no response from Chiara who he assumed was giving him the silent treatment due to the way he handled her questions.  
"Look, I am sorry. I should have just told you from the start. The only reason I did not come to rescue you earlier was because of Niccolo. God knows how anybody could be as cowardly as him. His actions were driven by emotions and although that happens to us all, it was no excuse to do what he did. Love...love does make us do wild things."

His footsteps were the only sound in the tunnel.  
"Chiara?"

He paused in his step and heard a very light snore. When he stood still, he could sense her breathing - all was well, and she was perfectly fine. If he could visualise the tunnel with light correctly, he was still a good distance away from the hideout.

It took him hours of silently treading the rank tunnel to finally calculate that they were almost at their destination. He put his hood down and approached the hideout unnoticed.

The first face he saw was Machiavelli's, whose eyes lit up with molten desire but one look at the scars on her skin impelled him to turn his head away in shame. "You found her,"

"She was not hard to find. You know why, don't you?" remarked Ezio coldly.

Niccolo hung his head in shame and wanted to see Chiara closely but Ezio refused.

"Do not even think about it. Not even for a second, Niccolo. The very last thing she needs is to find out one of her dear friends stabbed her in the back."

"I have already explained my reasons, Ezio."

Ezio stared at his friend in awe at how reserved he could be at times, "_Buona fortuna_ explaining to Chiara why you let Cesare rape her for months. You think she will love a scoundrel like you?"

Machiavelli, clearly offended, attempted to justify himself, "Watch your words, _amico_."

"You saw this charade as a contest, Machiavelli didn't you? Good news, you win."

Niccolo played Judas, thought Chiara. She heard the whole conversation from the second she was in the hideout. The bright light aroused her from her short sleep and she wished for nothing more but to put back into that dusty cell. Back when she did not know that the man she trusted deeply turned into a traitor.


	15. Chapter 15

The word 'let' rang loudly in Chiara's ears. Machiavelli let Cesare rape her. If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be bruised. She wouldn't have had cuts all over her body. But what she would've had, is the will to live.

"I am going to put her in one of the bedrooms. Stay away from her."

Niccolo nodded half-heartedly and although Ezio didn't look convinced, he went along with it. On his way to one of the bedrooms towards the west of the hideout, he encountered Claudia who let out a cry at Chiara's state.

"Ssssh, Claudia. She is tired. Much more than I had thought," warned Ezio. He scanned his sister's face for the sadness he missed in Machiavelli's . It was more than evident in her sudden tears.

"How did you get her out so quickly?"

"Luckily, I did not have to shed any blood while I was there. Except with his Holiness..."

"You killed the Pope? It seems you accomplished two feats in one day, Ezio."

Ezio told the truth, "I just ended his misery. It was Lucrezia who poisoned him. She was essentially a political prisoner within her own home."

Claudia's scowl at Lucrezia's name turned into confusion as the truth unfolded.

"I'm putting her in the room between yours and mine, Claudia. Tend to her wounds, would you? There are more than meets the eye,"

He lifted a hand and wiped his sister's tears, "There is no need to cry,_ mia cara sorella _(my dear sister). We have her again,"

She smiled bleakly and left to get medical supplies as Chiara listened with a new curiosity at the people whose care she was in. They were truly good people if they were this worried about her. As for Machiavelli, she would deal with him later. And then it struck her that Ezio mentioned love. It was a concept which was unfamiliar to her yet desperately wanted. But she still did not understand why Machiavelli would leave her like that if he loved her. She didn't love him. Her memories were a blur regarding the time they spent working together at the brothel, clouded by the anger she felt.

The surroundings changed and Chiara felt a soft mattress under her as she was lowered onto the bed. Ezio's face was directly above hers, eyes widening when he noticed she wasn't asleep.

"Are you...are you alright? I did not realise you were awake..." he said softly, keeping his eyes fixated with hers.

"_Si_. Sorry for surprising you. The bed...is soft. I am not used to such comfort any longer," said Chiara, looking around. The room's colour scheme was aligned with the rest of the hideout - banners with the Asssassin's insignia fell from the ceiling, barely touching the floor.

Ezio breathed out slowly. He thought she hadn't heard of Machiavelli's deceit and was glad.

"I am sorry about that,"

"Please do not say that. You have nothing to be sorry about,"

Damn those feelings taking over my heart, thought Ezio. He could not love Chiara. Not with Machiavelli in the picture and certainly not now that Rodrigo Borgia was dead. He didn't have time to love and simply feeling it unrequitedly would pain him to the greatest extent. Involving Chiara in his affairs would be troubling. He thought of Cristina and everything he felt for her. If he had another chance to be with her, he would take it. However, now that he knew what life was like as an assassin, he would not be able to balance them both. Being an Assassin was another way of life altogether. It was time-consuming but it was the only viable option to save Italia from Cesare's clutches. The psychomachia would tear him apart if he did not try to resist.

"I am afraid you will have to let Chiara out of your sights for a little while, Ezio." said Claudia, walking into the dimly-lit room holding a box filled with a basin of water, ointments, bandages, a cloth, string and needles.

"Alright," stated Ezio, turning his head modestly. Just as he was about to move away from the bed, he felt Chiara's hand linger on his. He broke off from the touch and the room turned black and white for a second. He had to resist.

When he left, Claudia began to wipe the blood from Chiara's face. She couldn't find the right thing to say to the victim and after a long time of silent endurance, Chiara spoke.

"Say something, _amica _(friend)."

"I am sorry," replied Claudia, preparing the ointments. A foul smell came out one of the bottles as Claudia dabbed some of the dirt-coloured cream on a separate, smaller towel.

"I wish everybody would stop saying that! It was not your fault but...what is that?!" exclaimed Chiara, eyeing the unfriendly ointment with disgust.

"That is the cure to the cuts on your face."

Claudia frowned at the gaping red cuts on Chiara's face. They were on the verge of being totally raw which meant they were fairly new.

"Your sister let that happen to you?" she asked as she applied the cool cream on the cuts even though she knew the answer. Even the mere thought of hurting her siblings like that caused Claudia discomfort and Chiara did not reply in accordance to the question. Instead, she asked for clean clothes.

"As soon as your...wounds...have healed slightly, you can change out of your clothes. The holes in your dress make it easier to apply the medicine."

That is the only way I could have been useful, thought Chiara. She hated feeling so weak. She just wanted to stand freely in the open air and scream as loud as she could without losing her voice. She envied the eagles which she could see flying majestically outside the window, circling the grand towers in the distance.

Claudia hunched her back over the box of supplies and her body tensed when Chiara asked her a question,

"Where is Niccolo?"

Keeping her eyes fixed on slipping a thread through the needle, she shrugged her shoulders. Chiara used this time to slip her hand inside her bodice for the vial of poison and with her breath held, she hid it under her pillow.

"I am sure he is around somewhere,"

"He...he did not want to see me?"

"I do not know." said Claudia sourly.

Chiara knew she was hiding the secret of Machiavelli's betrayal. Claudia was protecting her, the way her own sister should have. She spoke nothing more of it and closed her eyes until she felt a needle prick her arm.

"Careful, try not to move. You need stitches."

"You are sewing my skin back together?" asked Chiara. She had never seen such medical procedures in her life. She cringed and braced herself for the worst, but the bruises disguised her pain. It felt normal, somehow. After half an hour of stitching her arms and applying ointment on the sore spots of the rest of her body, Claudia jumped up, realising that she had left the brothel unattended.

"_Merda!_ I need to go back to the Rosa Del Fiore."

"I am sorry to have kept you," replied Chiara, her skin tingling where her cuts were.

Claudia refused the unnecessary apology, "Do not be silly! I just did not realise it would take so long. I will see you again soon, I hope?"

"Of course," smiled Chiara. She was proud to call Claudia her friend who lightly kissed her on the forehead and left. Her tired eyes found sleep like a lost lamb and her mind wandered off.

Outside the bedroom, Ezio and Machiavelli were stood on opposite sides of the room, swords drawn.

"What the...what is going on here?" asked Claudia, stood in between both men with her arms outstretched.

Ezio spoke first with defiance,"I thought it was time for Niccolo to fight me like a real man,"

"This is completely unnecessary," remarked Niccolo, equally as defiant.

"Yet, you did not refuse when I challenged you,"

"True. It is rude to say no."

Ezio glared and he felt light-headed with adrenaline.

"Try answering this without saying no. Were you able to save the apparent love of your life by infiltrating the Castel Sant'Angelo and carrying her through a tunnel for hours until your back ached?"

"Ezio! You are acting like a child," spoke Claudia and folded her arms in annoyance, "Chiara is trying to rest and the two of you fighting isn't going to help."

Niccolo put his sword back into his belt and spat bitterly, "You could learn something from your little sister. She is smarter than you, it seems."

"You _figlio di puttana _(son of a whore)!" raged Ezio, who would've ripped Machiavelli's throat out there and then if Claudia hadn't held him back.

"Leave him be, _fratello_. He is not worth it."

Claudia had no respect left for Machiavelli at all. It had dwindled when his cowardice was revealed but insulting her brave brother was a step too far. He wasn't right for Chiara. Chances are he would hurt her more and she, as much as her brother would not let that happen.

"Do something useful and watch her while we actually carry out our assassin duties, Niccolo. Take this opportunity to drown in guilt and do not bother her."

Machiavelli put his hands in the air, as if he was surrendering and replied "Whatever you say, master. Are you sure you can trust me with this?"

"No, I cannot. But if you have any remorse for what you have done, you will do as you are told." finalised Ezio, threateningly.

Niccolo shrugged carelessly as Ezio disappeared behind a door and Chiara left through the entrance. Deviating a plan, he realised his desperation for Chiara's love was growing indefinitely. She was his first, and she would be his only too. He then set his plan into motion by first blowing out all the candles leading up to Chiara's room, leaving only a little light peeking from the other rooms. Peering into the bedroom, he saw that she was fast asleep, chest rising slowly with each breath she took. She looked like an angel; but one who had fallen and hit a few trees on her way down from heaven.

He shut the door behind him, blew out the candles in all four corners and tiptoed soundlessly across to her. He yearned to make all her injuries disappear, feeling wholly responsible for them. And then he swooped down and placed his lips on hers. Chiara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she began to thrash, her sounds of resistance muffled by Niccolo's lips. It was cold and out of place. Machiavelli devoured the moment and the second he saw his menacing gaze reflected in Chiara's tear-rimmed and wide eyes, he forced himself back.

"What...what do you think you are doing?!" she whispered, wiping her mouth.

Machiavelli stood paralysed, replaying the kiss in his head. It was true, he loved her. He wanted her so much but he could not have her. Her reaction said everything she could not.

"I am just...I am just happy you are back home."

Chiara couldn't believe the words which were coming out of his mouth. He was crazy. He was as mad as Cesare.

"How dare you? After everything you have done?" she asked. She forced herself to straighten her back, but her muscles protested in agony. In the almost blinding darkness, she could only make out his silhouette which she knew too well. His figure in comparison to Ezio was short and small.

"What have I done? I am your friend."

"I heard everything, Niccolo! Y-you left me in Cesare's hands out of love. They say love is blind; are you blind enough to dismiss all of these ugly marks on my face?"

Chiara's stammer disappeared the more her voice rose, but she could hear it breaking.

"I am sorry about that."

"Spare me the sympathy, Niccolo! You...you are...not..."

Her voice faltered and the remainder of her vision became disorientated. Before she lost focus, she heard the door burst open open and Ezio ran in, slamming Machiavelli against the wall.

Claudia sprinted inside after him, the room flooding with light. Machiavelli looked petrified.

"I knew you could not keep it up, Niccolo."

"I thought you-" stuttered Machiavelli as Ezio kept a tight clutch on his throat. The grip was tightening.

"Claudia suggested we wait a while. You are unpredictable, to say the least."

"Ezio, think about what you're doing," urged Claudia, as he flicked his wrist to expose the deadly hidden blade. He pressed onto his old friend's throat, digging it deeper until a drop of blood trickled down.

"An eye for an eye, _amico_. Chiara's blood in exchange for yours."

Ezio blatantly rejected his sister's pleas, pushing her away with his free arm. She kneeled beside Chiara, shaking her who in turn did not move.

"Claudia, do not make me linger. It will make me regret my actions more."

"You know more than everyone what revenge brings. Please, Ezio."

The assassin looked between his foe, and his sister, the voice of reasoning. Before making a move, he cast one look at the victim of all this lying unconsciousness in the bed basing his decision on what would be best for her.

* * *

**I know it's pretty short and not much happened, but I promise I'll move onto the actual story line - with Ezio focusing on Cesare and whatnot! Just wanted to get the whole lovey dovey thing out of the way...for now.  
****New readers; welcome! Hope you're enjoying it so far!**


	16. Chapter 16

"I am sparing you this time. Consider this your last chance to redeem yourself."

Before releasing his iron grip on Machiavelli, he cocked his head in Chiara's direction, "For her sake,"

The darkness continued to shroud the figures in the room, making it difficult to recognise the expression on Machiavelli's face which was a cross between genuine cowardice and comprehension. It took him longer than a minute to acknowledge what he had done. It was reckless and all these years of choosing methodical approaches as opposed to following gut instinct was something he should have stuck with instead of acting on impulse. Feelings always got hurt and today, he was the victim of unrequited love.

Machiavelli massaged his throat and whispered "Forgive me, for my recklessness."  
Then he decided to do something which his former self would have reprimanded him about; buy himself a bottle of alcohol and lock himself away from the world for a while.

He disappeared from sight, leaving a mingled sense of neglect and deception in his wake.

"Ezio, she is not waking up. Please fetch me some water and light."

With a nod, Ezio left the bedroom to the unlit hallway and his eyes followed the source of light which Machievelli had chosen to leave on. He trudged along the stone floor with heavy feet and approached the candlelight. He lost himself with the brilliantly fiery colours of the flame, swiping his finger in and out and burning the tip of his forefinger ever so slightly.

"Ezio?" he heard Claudia shout. It wouldn't have mattered that she was only a few rooms away from him - she sounded so distant, like a drifting memory in his mind. His mind flashed back to his youth in Florence.

_"Ezio! There you are!" asked a pre-teen Claudia, one midsummer afternoon near the palazzo gates._

_"Here I am, Claudia. What is the matter?"_

_"Father has been looking for you everywhere. Did you forget you had errands to run?"_

_"But, mia sorella cara, that is exactly what I was taking care of," he replied with an impish grin._

_Claudia sighed exasperatedly, but couldn't help smiling back._

_"Fratello, even the guard's idle chitchat is about you. They say you are...let me see if I can remember the phrase - 'unbelievably dexterous', whatever that means."_

_"It means the guards think I am too smart for them, Claudia. Who knew those leccare il culo merda (ass-licking shits) were capable of such big words! Don't tell madre_ _I said that."_

_"I promise I won't. But where will you say you were?" said Claudia with innocence._

_"Vieri d'Pazzi's palazzo."_

_"But you were at Cristina's house."_

_"Sometimes, bambina, you have to lie to avoid trouble."_

_"Oh."_

_"Si, come on. Let us go home."_

Life was so easy back then. Back when his older brother taught him how to talk to women without fear of babbling like an idiot, when his younger brother would ask him sweetly to take him to the market to buy flowers for their mother, and when his father would laugh about Ezio's misfortunate encounters with Signor Vespucci, Cristina's father. He sometimes wondered what would have happened if Uberto Alberti didn't stab them in their back like that. Would he have been married to Cristina? Perhaps they would've had many children, all grown up by this time. At least Cristina would have had a full set of in-laws to go too whenever Ezio was in the banking business with his brother. His assassin identity would still remain in the background, but he would balance it with family, just like his father had.

"Ezio! What is taking you so long?"

He heard Claudia's voice again, much closer this time, snapping his mind back to reality. He ignored the stinging on his fingers and picked up the candle holder. At the same time, he spotted the bucket of water Claudia had used earlier for Chiara's wounds. It looked clean enough.

"It is about time. I thought Niccolo had done something to you," remarked Claudia, dipping her hands into the bucket of water.

"I can manage that coward perfectly fine, _grazie_," replied Ezio, observing his little sister.

She sprinkled the cold water on Chiara's face who showed signs of movement after a few minutes.

"It is working!" exclaimed Ezio, reassuredly.

Chiara scrunched her face at the droplets of water, all signs of colour draining from her pale face but then the usual happened and she found herself trapped in a nightmare.

"_Mi dispiace_, mother!" she yelled, hands gripping the bed sheets and fiercely twisting them into knots. She lost control of her hands and her muscles began to tense.

"It was not my fault! Forgive me, mother. It was not..it was not me," she cried out, as Ezio and Claudia watched with horrified expressions on their faces.

"Chiara, stop. Calm down," ordered Claudia, attempting to pin her arms down, "She is having a nightmare."

Her short-lived attempt was aided by Ezio, who cupped Chiara's face in his hands and murmured in a low voice, "Chiara, it is Ezio. Your mother isn't here."

"But mother...it was..it was Caterina. Forgive me,"

"Sssh. _Calmatevi_," he soothed, as Claudia stroked her hair softly.

Chiara's fierce struggling subsided and she stopped, her eyelids fluttering open.

"Ezio?"

Muttering a quick prayer for her total consciousness, he nodded.

"What...what happened?" she asked, with no recollection of her nightmare.

Ezio looked to Claudia for support who shrugged her shoulders.

"You were just having a bad dream, that is all,"

"Oh...but I mean...what happened after Niccolo kiss-"

"He had some errands to run," interrupted Ezio, trying to avoid reliving the scene in his head. If he didn't have eagle vision, he would not have known what went happened behind the closed doors. Chiara knew he was hiding something as he and glared at the wall.

"Are you alright?" asked Claudia, easing her hands off Chiara.

She replied, "Yes, I am fine. As fine as I can be with my..."

Chiara shifted her gaze mid-sentence and looked at the drying ointment on her body. She sincerely hoped they would heal her as soon as possible and get her back on her feet. A cool breeze drifted in through the window, crisp and fresh.

"As long as you are okay. I really have to get back to the brothel," stated Claudia, frowning.

"And I have to speak to La Volpe about our next move. I will assign one of the recruits to watch over you and as soon as I am done, I will be back," said Ezio, waiting for a nod of agreement from Chiara and Claudia before leaving the room.

Claudia dried her hands on her dress and just as she was about to leave, Chiara stopped her.

"Did Niccolo...did he really leave so easily?"

"Ezio nearly killed him, if that was what you meant. Niccolo is in love with you and Ezio...well, he is just as confused,"

Now Ezio was tangled up in this mess with Chiara. She was the real mess here with no family, no work, no ambitions, but most of all no life. She was in pieces and yet what on earth they saw in her, she would never know.

"We all love you dearly, _amica_, but-"

"But what?" asked Chiara with the utmost curiosity.

"Well, everything was...everything was going fine. Until..."

"Until I came along."

"That was not what I was going to say."

"No, but it was...it was what you were trying to imply."

"I have to go," concluded Claudia, avoiding Chiara's painful gaze and leaving.

A little while later, a young boy with auburn hair and dimples stepped inside and made his presence known that he was to guard her. She faked a smile which faded when he left.  
Chiara was a burden. That was how she felt and that was most certainly what her friend had implied. If it wasn't for her, Ezio and Niccolo would not have been fighting and Cesare would have been dead by now. Their mission to liberate Roma would have been close to the end and all Chiara was doing was slowing them down. She had two options; put on a facade and wait until she recovered to leave which would take days, maybe even weeks. Or, end everybody's misery there and then.

It took her some time to brace herself for what she wanted to do. And then, mustering up the remaining energy she had inside her, she reached under her pillow and took out the vial. This is it, she thought to herself and unscrewed the top with her boney fingers.

Just as she had brought the poison to her lips, an arrow bolt flew past her head, knocking the vial from her hand. The poison spilled out as if in a hurry and ran along the stone floor, gleaming in the candlelight. Snapping her head in the direction it came from, she scowled at the young recruit grinning wildly.

"_Messer_ Ezio will be pleased. His hard work training me is paying off."

"That was the last drop left!" shouted Chiara, barely able to vent her anger in the way she had intended.

The recruit shrugged, "Under no circumstance are you to do anything, _Madonna_. Those are my orders."

"You have no right to do that! You do not even know me."

"_Si_, _Madonna_. But I know what you have been through and it is terrible. I too, wish to take these people down. They are the reason Italia is crumbling. It is fairly obvious that they are not improving lives as they say they will, but destroying more every day," replied the young boy solemnly.

There was something about him that was sincere and loyal. He was dressed very simply with basic leather armor and a small sword on his side, and from the looks of it didn't seem fit enough to be on the lookout from ambitious rapists, jealous sisters and obsessed lovers.

"How old are you?"

"I am sixteen."

"You are very...very mature for your age, I will say that much."

The recruit smiled shyly and she saw her own reflection his eyes - times when she was carefree and her biggest concern in the world would be why her mother still had not returned from the tailor with her new dress. Now, her sole concern was living, or as she just failed to do, dying.

"_Grazie_. My name is Ilario, _Madonna_ Sforza." he replied, flashing another innocent smile.

"_Lieta di conoscerla_ (Pleased to meet you). That explains why you are so damn cheerful," sighed Chiara, glad to be of such merry company yet ill at ease with the thought that Ezio recruited a teenager to his cause. Ilario had his whole life ahead of him. He should have been at university somewhere, or being an apprentice learning the tools of the trade, not hunting down dangerous men.

"May I ask you something?" asked Ilario cautiously. He didn't want to upset the poor woman even further.

"_Certo_ (Certainly). I have nothing better to do."

"Why did you want to kill yourself? I know what has happened to you was horrible, certainly I cannot imagine such horrors myself, but whatever made you do it?"

"Uh, well, it sounds like you already know my story."

"But you are safe now. I do not understand why-"

"Were you planning on reporting back to Ezio about why I wanted to commit suicide, Ilario? Because...because if that is the case, then I am sorry but you will not get an honest answer out of me."

"My apologies. I did not mean to offend you. I was merely curious," replied Ilario, looking at the floor like a little child getting scolded. The trick worked on Chiara and she took back her words.

"No, no, it is alright. But remember what curiosity did to the cat, Ilario. I am tired, I would like to sleep."

"Not forever, I hope? Because you can drink that poison no longer, _Madonna_..." he remarked, grinning like a wildcat again and pointing to the floor. His smile was infectious, making it all the more harder not to resent Ezio's actions of involving a child in adult matters. It could be said that it was like a game of chess, where tactics and thought processes mattered dearly, but it was not rough-play.

"You have a lot of _impudenza_ (nerve), but I will let you off for that. We would not want Ezio to know about your cheek. Just as we would not want him to know...to know about what I failed to do earlier."

"You have my word. I will let you rest now," promised Ilario, bowing and leaving the room.

Chiara felt a lot better than before. To her, that conversation was proof that a little company could go a long way. And then it dawned upon her that she almost ended her own life. An insignificant amount of time was needed to realise that her self-pity was absurd when there were civilians out there in worse situations; yielding to the Borgia's injustice. This gave her a moral conviction - she personally swore to bring justice back to these people's lives. It would not matter how much pain she would suffer along the way or how much time it took. If she was not allowed to be inducted into the Brotherhood, then she would take the high road by herself.

Meanwhile, in _La Volpe Addormentanta_, the skilled thief himself couldn't stop expressing approval at Ezio's actions. He held Machiavelli's cowardice in disregard, explaining how he had never trusted him in the first place but Ezio knew there was a fine line between betraying a person due to conflicting feelings and betraying the Order's secrets to the Templars. One was less severe than the other. Apparently, the Pope's funeral was to be held the day after and it would be a perfect opportunity to perform a stealth mission.

"What did they say was the cause of death?" asked Ezio as the throng of customers distracted him from the affairs of Machiavelli.

"Oh, I don't know exactly, but my thieves have heard rumours. Some as _ridicolo_ (ridiculous) as natural causes in his sleep and others which are infinitely more _credibile_ (believable) such as pox." replied La Volpe, chuckling at his own joke.

"I couldn't agree more."

La Volpe cracked a one line joke, sarcastically.

"Though how they would think such a high man of God could ever die through pox, baffles me,"

Ezio simply shrugged his shoulders, laughing at the same time. His old friend Gilberto really knew how to cheer him up. His constant good humour was a quality he envied.

"Let us get down to business, eh?" asked Ezio, folding his arms.

His ally grinned, "Of course! Tomorrow's mission should be entertaining. After all, you are secretly gate-crashing that _testa di minchia di_ (dickhead's) funeral,"

"Do not speak ill of the dead, _amico_. Playful words is one thing, but then calling him names is different..." warned Ezio, lightly.

He would have called Rodrigo worse words if he had not known the grievances associated with death. He thought of Lucrezia and the role she played in all of this and realised that a more seruous approach would need to be taken if the Assassin's plans were to work fully.

"Ah, I am sorry. It takes a lot for me not to joke about that man. How are you going to get inside the church?"

"I can scale the walls or disguise as a guard."

"There are a couple of problems with that. We do not have exact notification of how the funeral is going to be set up - how many people are attending, which of Cesare's remaining men will be there and most importantly, we do not even know where it is."

"There are not many churches here as far as I am concerned, and I highly doubt they would take his corpse far. The Sistine Chapel or Basilica di San Pietro would be our best guesses."

"Even so, we need specifics."

Their conversation was disrupted by a group of guards who stormed through the front door which was left open during these hours for the general public. Ezio and La Volpe kept their heads down instinctively.

"_Tutto a posto_ (Alright), listen up. From the order of the Papacy, we have strict orders to obtain information about Chiara Sforza's whereabouts. Anyone who has any news should report to the Vaticano District guard base before the Holiness' funeral tomorrow at Basilica Di San Pietro."

"I guess that answers your question," grinned Ezio, lifting his head. The unforeseen inheritance of information was enough to pluck up some bravery and relief inside him.

"I know where she is," spoke Ezio, raising his voice and standing up to make his presence known. The scattered attentions of the customers became undivided, everybody surprised to see the Assassin speak out.

The guards ogled at the Assassin, drawing their swords.

"Are you up for a fight, Gilberto?" he asked La Volpe, his heart pounding with excitement.

His friend replied with the double the enthusiasm, "I thought you would never ask!"

* * *

**Welcome to my fanfic, new readers! Hope you are enjoying it thoroughly so far.**

**In case people didn't understand the "That explains why you are so damn cheerful..." part when Chiara finds out the recruit's name - 'Ilario' means 'cheerful' and as you can tell, the young boy loves his smiles.**

**Let me know what you thought. I know I keep promising action-packed-Cesare-drama but that will come soon - well, in the next chapter because of Ezio's funeral-invading mission. So, I hope you are not bored of this fanfic already because I am thankful for each and everyone of you readers. **


	17. Chapter 17

Ezio ducked below the swinging blade of the first guard and hacked at his exposed flank. One down. The second guard was a little more cautious and circled Ezio for a while before stepping forward to attack him. He lunged at Ezio's chest but the assassin parried upwards, locking the guard of his blade and swung his left hand, dagger pointing forward, at the man's head. Two down. The third guard was hoping to take advantage of the fact that both of Ezio's blades were engaged and rushed forward. Ezio sent the blade of the second guard flying towards the guard who raised his sword in an attempt to deflect the blow but unlucky for him, he was too late and the blade dug into his arm. Wincing with pain, he came forward again but by the time Ezio had recovered his stance, the guard had already been dispatched with someone's hidden blade. It was neither his or La Volpe's. He didn't realise that this hooded man had slipped through the pub doors in the midst of the fight but his presence was left unaware as the thieves had joined in with the madness.

As soon as Ezio's eyes met the sliver of polished metal, retracting on the man's arm, his suspicions arose to Niccolo but then subsided when he realised Machiavelli was much shorter.  
It was possible that the Templars could have replicated the assassin's most valuable tool since their team of master engineers included his loyal ally, Leonardo da Vinci but he was more than sure that his friend would rather die than give the hidden blade's codex secrets away.

"La Volpe! Who is that man?" yelled Ezio, standing on a table and leaping on a scrawny-looking guard.

His friend was too distracted with the fight, which in his eyes was just a playful little scuffle. The stranger continued to fight by their side and if Ezio wanted answers, he would have to get through the swarm of guards ahead of him.  
Despite being heavily outnumbered, he counter-attacked the guards keeping in mind their lack of training and after the brawl was over, the mysterious man spoke.

"Do not make the mistake of inciting the situation again, Ezio."

His low voice was so familiar. His head was turned and he stepped over a body, about to leave but Ezio couldn't let him go without any answers.

"Wait! Who are you?"

"You will find out soon enough," he replied vaguely, keeping his back to Ezio who looked over to La Volpe for support.

La Volpe tried his best, "Messer, you helped us against the Borgia guards..surely you owe us your name?"

However, the man would not budge. His hood was unusually big and even the outline of his face could not be seen. He ignored La Volpe and aimed his next statement at Ezio.

"Every man is mortal, every life bounds to an end but certain things will never change. Keep that in mind, Auditore,"

The words rang a bell. Ezio raised his eyebrows. The man left. He had heard those exact words somewhere else, many years ago.

_"...to an end but certain things will never change. That is what I always say."_

_"You just made that up on the spot, didn't you?"_

_"You know me too well, mi amore."_

_"You should have just become a poet,"_

_"But then you would not have agreed to marry me,"_

_"I fell in love with you at first sight, I would have married you whatever you were."_

_"Mother, father, you seem to have forgotten your children are in the same room,"_

_Both Maria and Giovanni laughed heartily._

_"Love is nothing to be embarrassed about, my son," said Giovanni, followed by Maria who stated, "If anything it is something to be proud of. Love is a beautiful thing, always worth fighting for. Embrace it when you feel it, the way you do with those girls day and night Ezio."_

_Ezio rolled his eyes, flushing red, "Madre..."_

"Gilberto...those words," said Ezio, eyes growing wide, the memories fading to black at the back of his mind. La Volpe walked to Ezio and placed a concerned hand on his shoulder, "What about them, _amico _(friend)?"

"They were my father's words," he replied, swallowing. "He said it many years ago."

"How would that man know?"

"_Non lo so_ (I don't know),"

"Maybe he said it to somebody else," suggested La Volpe, watching Ezio carefully. He could see that this worry was not of an ordinary one.

"No, no. He made it up there and then..." stated Ezio, staring at the pile of dead bodies and trying to make sense of what had just happened. Somebody else must have been there when it had happened. But who?

"Ezio, I know it is troubling you greatly but focus. We have the location of the Pope's funeral and right now, we need to plan our attack."

La Volpe was right - how soon would the news of the Pope's death filter down through the hierarchy of the Vatican to all the people of Roma? The confusion that would follow in its wake would need a strong hand to control, and he prayed that Cesare would not have the opportunity to take advantage of any uncertainty to stake his own claim.

"_Va bene_ (okay). I need some air to clear my head first. Care to accompany me?"

"Lead on!"

The condition of the rooftops were much worse than Ezio had anticipated. The roofs of Rome were spaced farther apart than in Florence, and many were crumbling, making it harder to gain footing. More than once, Ezio sent a loose tile crashing to the ground. But there were only a few people about in the streets, and they moved so fast that by the time any Borgia guards could react, they were already out of sight of them. They reached a market square; its stalls closed up except for one or two brightly lit wine booths.

"What I would do for one of those..." sighed Ezio, pointing at a bottle of Vermentino on the stall. He craved for a night of rest with a good bottle of Tuscan wine.

"Is the Trebbiano at my pub not good enough for you, _messer_?"

"Ha, no. My uncle's cook in Monterriggioni always cooked fish with this wine. I think she said it was to enhance the flavour, but I was too distracted to listen properly,"

La Volpe smirked, "You and your ways with women. I will never understand it."

"_C'est la vie!_ (Such is life)" replied Ezio.

"And how you acquired knowledge of the French language too," remarked La Volpe, following Ezio as he shimmied along a ledge.

Ezio grinned before becoming serious again, "_Mon ami_ (my friend), that is a story which shall be told another time."

He hung over a bale of hay and casually let go of the ledge, landing inside softly. While he swept the strands of hay from his robes, La Volpe jumped too.

"_Basilica di San Pietro._" announced Ezio with a deep breath. In the distance stood the grand cathedral which from the use of Ezio's eagle vision, had numerous chapels near the front. Observing from far had limited usefulness, even with eagle vision.

"What can you see?"

"Only the few chapels inside. And the people who are organising the funeral glowing yellow. This...ability of mine only allows me to see flesh. Outlines of the interior are far too vague."

La Volpe frowned, the droopy hood hiding his eyes, "Which means there is no possibility of planning an attack."

"Unfortunately not. I assume the actual funeral procession will be held much further inside. I need to get inside."

His eyes scanned the exterior but still, nothing. He could scale the walls but without any inside information on how to tackle such a task, it would prove to be incredibly risky. The additional fact of Cesare's known presence meant nothing could go wrong. He would have to improvise, and improvise well.

"Well, I hear many people will attend the funeral of their beloved Holiness. I fail to understand one thing though, Ezio."

"Which is?" asked Ezio, determined to find another clue as to how he should proceed with the funeral and staring intently at the entrance of the Basilica as workers poured in and out.

"Even after all the rumours, these people still worshipped him as if he was the Son of God."

"These people do not worship him out of choice, Gilberto. If they had a choice, they would have fled as far as they could from this corrupted city. The Borgia's and the papacy have indoctrinated the innocents using terror. It is simple - be a Borgia slave or be killed."

"Let us recruit more willing people to our cause then, Ezio."

"That is the problem - they're not willing. It is becoming rarer and rarer to find oppressed civilians who try to resist the regime."

"Why don't we strike up a little hostility at the funeral tomorrow? Promote our cause?" suggested La Volpe, as confused as Ezio was. They were running out of options.

"And let the world know who we are? You are starting to sound like Niccolo."

"Ha! I will be damned if I am anything like that _culo_ (ass)!" retorted La Volpe, thoroughly offended. "All I am saying is that a little publicity for our brotherhood would not hurt."

But Ezio blatantly refused such an idea. Putting their cause on show like that would affect the way they worked. It would be breaking the tenets of the creed and most of all, it would put all their lives at risk. The people who chose to involve themselves with the Assassins would have to lead a dangerous life and forever be hunted by the Borgia's, one by one.

"Hide in plain sight, Gilberto. Or have you forgotten?" asked Ezio, the interrogative question coming out harsher than he had intended. He was already aware that the hunt for the apple and Cesare's death was tiring, but now it was obvious that it was also driving him crazy. All he wanted was a second to stand still and breathe but every time he was given such an opportunity, something took away his will to live this complicated life.

La Volpe could see that Ezio was stressed and decided to let the matter rest, "It was merely a suggestion. Nothing more."

"_Mi dispiace_."

"No need for apologies. Come, let's go back to the pub."

Ezio shook his head. He needed to see Chiara. Maybe that would clear his head for a while since the fresh air failed at doing so.

"I cannot. I left Chiara at the hands of a new recruit because Claudia needed to go back to the bordello (brothel). If Niccolo did as much as even step inside her room..." lingered Ezio, conflict tearing him apart again.

"...then you will kill him. Yes, yes, I know," smiled La Volpe which led to Ezio asking what was so funny.

"Nothing. Chiara must be an extraordinary young woman,"

"And if she is?" asked Ezio, not sure where the conversation was headed.

La Volpe's wild grin showed no signs of leaving as he said, "That is all I am saying,"

Both friends agreed to meet at the hideout at dawn and set their unmade plans into motion from there.

Meanwhile, at the hideout, Chiara was growing impatient of lying in bed as if she was crippled and dying. The medicine on her wounds were now dry and crumbled into powder at her touch. Placing the palms of her hand steadily by her sides, she tried pulling herself up properly. Defiantly ignoring the seering back pain, she used her legs to push upwards from the foot of the bed. Almost there, she thought, swinging her legs over the bed and onto the stone floor. Now all that was left to do was lessen the numbness on her backside and stand up. Her legs wobbled and as her arms thrashed the air wildly, she fell with a thump which aroused the attention of Ilario from outside.

"_Madonna_!" he exclaimed, rushing in and examining the injuries.

"I am alright," stated Chiara, pulling her dress down so that her legs were covered and rubbing her knees which ached slightly.

"Did you try to walk?" asked Ilario, looking fearful. He looked ten times younger when he was scared, making him look more prone to danger. The thought made her spiteful at Ezio all over again. Ilario was much too young to be an assassin.

Her anger rubbed off on her sarcasm, "What gave it away?!"

Ilario stared at her in embarrassment as if he was being scolded by an older sibling. The innocent look in his eye told Chiara that her attitude was slowly transforming into her sister's.

Feeling guilty, Chiara let Ilario help her up and she requested that she be put near an open door for some air. The young boy was reluctant at first, unsure whether it breached his duty to Ezio.

"Please?" pleaded Chiara. Ilario didn't refuse and held Chiara by the waist as she trudged along the cobblestone to the front entrance of the hideout. She leaned against the door frame and happily breathed in the Roman air which didn't carry the deadly stench of disease she had lived with for months. The light bounced off the river Tiber like a million glistening crystals, capturing Chiara's attention. The banks of the river were grassy and dry.

"I want to sit closer to the water, Ilario,"

Ilario, who was bobbing up and down on his feet, nervously hoping Ezio would not come back soon and see what Chiara was doing, immediately said no.

"_Calmatevi_, I am not planning on drowning myself,"

"_Messer_ Ezio would not be pleased,"

"He won't be pleased that you even let me off the bed, _bambino_."

The recruit shook his head, muttering prayers in his head to be kept alive by Ezio's mercy and put Chiara closer to the river bank. She thanked him and gazed at the buildings which filled her vision from all angles. The sunlight had taken a toll on her much too quickly and she lay back on the grass slowly, closing her eyes.

Her blissful rest was disrupted by a stern voice from behind her.

"What is going on here?"

It was Ezio.

"_Messer_, I can explain..." said Ilario, worried to death at what Ezio would do as he walked out of the door.

"It is my fault. I wanted some air and daylight," admitted Chiara, propping herself up with the elbows which was as much as she could do by herself.

"A window was not sufficient for that?" asked Ezio.

"A window is not sufficient considering I was stuck in a musty cell for months. Why is it so bad that I do things out of my own accord?" asked Chiara angrily. She appreciated the concern for her welfare but she wasn't a baby who needed tending to every second of the day. She had been back not even for a couple of days and already she was being suffocated to the core.

"Because you are taking a large risk, Chiara. All these buildings around us are people's homes, shops, and even Borgia guard posts. There are eyes everywhere."

"Ilario, take me back inside," demanded Chiara. She was a prisoner with the Assassins as much as she had been with the Borgias. If she wasn't even allowed to walk outside her room, let alone be an assassin, what purpose did she serve wasting their time?

"I will-" offered Ezio.

"No. Ilario, please help me up," interrupted Chiara. She was as stubborn as an immature little child sometimes and she wasn't afraid to admit it. Desperate times called for desperate measures and being stubborn was included.

"Ilario, I give the orders around here," reminded Ezio.

The young boy swallowed, unable to move. He didn't know who to listen to. Instead, he simply wiped his sweat with a handkerchief.

"Ezio, I swear to God, if you do not let Ilario take me back I will jump into the river,"

"Alright! Ilario, take her back. But don't break my orders again, do you understand?"

"Si,"

Ezio gave in with dismay and made way for the recruit, who dragged Chiara inside as fast as he could. When he placed her back on her bed, he thanked her for standing up to Ezio.

"He is not as scary as he looks," she said, trying to ease Ilario's worries.

"Nobody has ever said I look scary before, _Madonna. Grazie_," remarked Ezio, walking inside the room uninvited.

"The poor boy looked scared to death," replied Chiara after Ilario hurried away.

"Good. He was supposed to obey my orders, not defy them."

"I only wanted some air! Do you have any idea what it was like not to see a friendly face in that horrid place? Forget faces, I had no idea what was going on! I lost track of time. Day, night, it...it all became one for me."

"But you need some rest. Substitute the window's breeze as fresh air for the time being,"

"It is not enough. There is only so much one can handle before bordering on insanity," she admitted. Her days at the Castello were spent praying to God and hoping for a saviour to come and rescue her. She had longed to see the daylight; to see the sun rise and the sun set. She had forgotten what a cloudless sky looked like.

"Look, the Brotherhood is finally achieving the results it needs. We have already disposed most of Cesare's closest allies, Rodrigo Borgia is dead and tomorrow is our chance to confront Cesare. If God forbid, anybody had seen you bathing in the sun for a minute longer, we would all be dead," explained Ezio, stressing the importance of their safety. He did not want to restrict Chiara from having a little freedom, but the timing was just off; terribly too.

Chiara began to shout at Ezio, voice beginning to crack, "You should have just left me there then!" and she fought with herself to hold back tears, "You should have just left me to die. I am glad...I am so glad Niccolo did not tell you sooner!"

She meant what she was saying only partly. She clenched her fists in pain and banged the bed, sobbing. Ezio moved his hand closer to her, intending to comfort her but she shrugged it off.

"You do not mean that, surely?"

"I do and I would let Cesare rape me a hundred times over if it meant I had some freedom to move!" she finalised, looking away in shame. The words just flew out of her mouth without any thought and she opened her mouth to apologise yet nothing came out.

"I see. Well, I am sorry you feel that way," muttered Ezio. A plethora of emotions flooded his heart, clouding his judgement. Damn the Borgias, he thought, damn them, damn the Templars, damn the Brotherhood, and damn everything. He took a long look at Chiara and the tears streaming down her face, before hardening his heart and leaving her in peace.

* * *

**Alright, my lovely little fans. First of all, my deepest apologies that it took me two weeks to write this- I'm not proud of the result either, but I've been awfully distracted with college. With exams approaching, it'll be even worse so again, my apology for that too.**

**I know I keep promising an action-packed-Cesare chapter and fail to keep that promise but I'm just strugging with the progression of that aspect of this fanfic. The Pope's funeral scene will be in the next chapter so please don't lose hope in me!**

New followers - welcome, I hope you're enjoying it so far! Any critique, feel free to tell me since I know very well I need to make a lot of improvements.


	18. Chapter 18

**You're probably wondering, "Two chapters in one day? Christmas has come early!" but it's because I owe you guys for being patient for two weeks and I broke numerous of action-packed chapters! Enjoy!**

* * *

The next morning, Ezio awoke with a jolt realising he slept on the floor for the night. The dream he had was so vivid; he saw himself calculating finances with a parchment and a bottle of ink whilst Frederico scribbled furiously in a book of expenses. That was the life he would be leading if he wasn't lying in an Assassin hideout miles away from his home in _Firenze _(Florence). That person would still have been his best friend if he hadn't been mercilessly hanged.

"Auditore?" asked a voice from behind closed doors.

"In here, Gilberto," replied Ezio, half asleep. Gentle rays of light streamed in through the small windows in the room, making Ezio feel even drowsier.  
The doors burst open and La Volpe strode inside looking exceedingly happy.

"What's the occasion?"

"Forgotten already? Today is the day we take down that Borgia bastard!"

"Don't get your hopes too high, my friend. Improvisation may prove to be quite difficult."

"Eh, we will be fine," shrugged La Volpe, too happy to think about the negatives. Besides leading his thieves, his business running a pub was getting somewhere but every time a new Borgia law was implemented, the civilians avoided La Volpe Addormentata as if a plague had hit it. Perhaps when all this was over, he could turn renovate it further and make it a permanent headquarter for his guild.

"You do not know that," replied Ezio, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, "What time is it?"

"It is almost dawn. I have news that the funeral procession will start at noon but I gather people will swarm to bid their blessed Pope goodbye before then. So we should probably get there before then."

"Do you reckon there is any time to eat?"

"Perhaps but you will have to be quick. Should I send one of my thieves to get some bread and cheese?"

"_Si_, I would be most grateful."

La Volpe went away, giving Ezio time to clean himself up. He picked up his sword and angled it until he saw his reflection properly. He had bags under his eyes but his complexion was still youthful. The wrinkles weren't appearing just yet. The freezing cold water helped remove any signs of sleepiness from his eyes and he wore his armor again, along with his vambrace and the belts which carried his other weapons.

He walked outside into the main hallway to find one of his recruits head deep inside a book where he must have fallen asleep. Ilario was asleep too, crouched outside Chiara's door.

"Hey," he nudged. Ilario mumbled and opened his eyes, straightening up at the sight of his master, "Take one of the beds for a few hours. I will be gone for most of the afternoon. If you need me, send Marco to the _Basilica Di San Pietro, capisci_?"

_"Si, messer._"

Ezio drew the boy to his feet and left Chiara's bedroom door ajar. He left her sound asleep and returned to the front to eat the bread and cheese left by one of La Volpe's thieves. After eating just enough to satisfy his growling stomach, he left the hideout through one of the trapdoors in the roof. The blacksmith's, being one of the few shops on this tiny island, was not hard to find and Ezio greeted his friend who was instructing his band of thieves.

"...only attack when Ezio signals. Got it?"

"Attack? I did not know your thieves could fight, Gilberto."

"Their form of attack is stealing. They can pickpocket guards who will run after them. After luring the idiots away, you can continue on your way inside."

"And what will the signal be?"

"Just put one hand in the air and clench your fist."

"_Va bene_. Shall we go?"

With a nod from La Volpe, Ezio and the thieves followed him down the path and into a dark tunnel. The walk took almost two hours, creating the perfect timing when they came out into the open air again. Or at least they had thought. After a while of climbing, Ezio stood still on a rooftop, with nothing but the faint whispers of wind drifting through the air.

"It is awfully quiet," mumbled Ezio, positioning himself on the highest point of a tower so he could see what was happening.  
The sound of voices rose and within seconds, hundreds, no thousands of mourners flocked towards the entrance of the basilica.

"_Mio dio_," he whispered, looking at the thieves for a similar reaction. Everybody was taken aback by the huge reception. It was certainly unexpected. Was the attendance of Rodrigo's funeral a new requirement which Ezio was unaware of? He lightly leaped from the tower and back on the roof, signalling for the men to walk forward. The closer he got, the more tear-stained faces he saw. Men and women from all ages and backgrounds were gathered outside, weeping for the loss of their Pope.  
He leaned over the edge of the roof looking for something and when his eyes met the golden hay sticking out of a bale beneath him, he smiled and swan-dived into it effortlessly. He peeked through the strands of hay. A guard of compact build walked back and forth unaware of the ruthless assassin mere inches away from him. Before he could utter a single word, Ezio stabbed the guard with his blade, expertly pulling him into the haystack. La Volpe followed as the thieves clambered down the walls. Attention on the assassins and thieves were lost in the masses and they squeezed through undetected until they got to the entrance of the courtyard, just before the first chapel.

Ezio found his target. Cesare was stood above a raised platform in between two columns, his raspy voice reverberating across the whole courtyard.  
"Good people of _Roma_. I ask that you pay your respects with utmost gratitude. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's."

"Since when is Cesare a man of Christian beliefs? He is quoting the Bible," observed La Volpe, tiptoeing to see Ezio better. The wails of the mourners nearly drowned out his words.

"It is all for show," replied Ezio, looking directly at his enemy above him.

"While I am mournfully indebted to this assembly, I ask from the bottom of my heart that the halls are cleared quickly after the prayers are said so that the burial can take place as soon as possible with the grace of God."

After his small order, Cesare disappeared out of sight and into the chapel, followed by a black walnut coffin carried by six Borgia guards. The people pushed and shoved to get inside and once the halls were full, the Borgia guards jammed the doors shut, leaving the rest of the congregation outside, disappointed. Ezio was lucky enough to be inside the same room huddled amongst the throng of people, but looking around, La Volpe was nowhere to be seen. He had gotten lost in the crowd.

"_Merda!_" he grumbled under his breath.

The chapel's only source of light was the hundred candles lit at the altar, surrounding the Pope's coffin. Above the altar, stood a giant crucifix on a background of red silk nailed to the wall. Ezio removed his hood, eyeing the number of guards in the room. They were stationed at every exit from all sides of the chapel. Cesare stood at the front on one side of the coffin with Lucrezia. On the other side, stood Caterina and a hooded man. The same hooded man who helped him earlier. It had to be. The height and build were the same, more or less. Paying no more attention to him, Ezio carefully observed Caterina. She looked like she was being treated well by the Templars. One look at her and Ezio could swear he could smell the same vanilla and rose oil she used. Similarly, Lucrezia looked like she hadn't suffered any beatings from her brother about the death of their father. Either that and she concocted a believable lie, or the bruises were hidden under her black garments.

The requiem began with the words "_Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine_ (Grant them eternal rest, O Lord)" and continued with low, droning voices until a sharp, angry crack resounded. Above their heads, the left hand of Christ pulled away from the horizontal bar of the crucifix and the torso lurched forward. For a second it seemed as if the whole body was going to tear itself off the wood. However, the right hand and the feet remained anchored so that Christ was suspended, hanging. The left arm lurched forward, a nail still embedded into his palm and from the hole in the wall, dust showered onto the Cardinal who was leading the prayers. He gave a strangled cry and suddenly everybody was screaming. Panic ran amock but Ezio's focus was on Cesare. The two women had disappeared and Cesare dived out of the way as the crucifix finally decided to fall, a mere inch away from crushing the Pope's coffin.

"Silence!" roared Cesare, standing up with the help of the hooded man, but his voice was just one of many. The frantic people struggled to get out and Ezio's eye caught the answer why. The guards weren't letting the people out. It must have been Cesare's orders because everybody was pounding on the doors and he did not instruct otherwise.

After whispering to the hooded man and placing a hand of reassurance on his arm, Cesare turned his back and reached down for something behind the altar. Ezio's first reaction was to run to Cesare and grab the thing out of his hand, but it was impossible with this riot. The apple of Eden glowed extremely dully in Cesare's palm but a slight touch from the hooded man seemed to trigger it's powers. A burst of psychedelic white light beamed from the strange artefact, affecting everyone's mind as soon as it veiled the room; everyone except Ezio, the hooded man and the possessor, Cesare. The limp bodies fell lifelessly all at once around Ezio who was immune to the powers.

"Ah, Ezio. What a pleasure to see you here," welcomed Cesare, dulling the light of the Apple. The hooded man began to distance himself from Cesare.

"I wish I could say the same for you. Give me the Apple," replied Ezio.

"Come and get it," challenged Cesare, holding it up for the world to see. Ezio sidestepped the bodies on the floor and paused, maintaining a short distance. He lunged forward but Cesare parried and casually threw the Apple to the hooded man who caught it with a flick of his wrist.

Ezio looked at the hooded man and decided to make a run towards him but he threw the artefact back to Cesare, as if they were playing an ordinary game of catch.

"Spare the theatrics, Cesare and just give it to me."

"If only it were that simple!" replied Cesare, pulling out something else from his robes - it was yet another artefact, but one which Ezio had never seen in his life shaped like a cross.

"Would you like this as well, old man? To resurrect your father? To resurrect your brother?"

Ezio had the urge to punch Cesare in the face and just beat him to death there and then, "Brothers, you_ figlio di puttana_. Your father didn't just kill one, but two,"

Cesare on the other hand was enjoying the game, smiling deviously, "Oh, my mistake. Why don't I demonstrate what it does?"

The hooded man began to unlock the bolts on the Pope's coffin and Ezio looked between both him and the Borgia confused. He and Cesare lifted the lid and the latter leaned over, wrinkling his nose in disgust.  
He lifted the cross-like artefact in his hand and pressed it onto the Pope's chest.

A death-like moan came out of Rodrigo's mouth and his hands jerked upwards from the box, grabbing the sides.

"_Impossibile _(Impossible)..." whispered Ezio, stupefied at the horror he was witnessing.


	19. Chapter 19

The pope's complexion as he rose out of the walnut coffin could not be mistaken for anything other than sallow and sickly. His round face was gaunt and the bags under his eyes drooped in an unnatural way. _Non pu essere_ (It cannot be), thought Ezio. The man stood before him was supposed to be dead. He watched him die. Ezio's eyes flickered to the crimson red blood seeping through his robe. It was the wound Ezio had inflicted to finish his life; the final blow.

"May you enjoy playing with my undead father," said Cesare, raising the artefact as if it was a glass of wine. He attempted to leave before Ezio yelled "You coward! Can't you put up a fight like a man?"

"Oh, _mi dispiace_, Ezio. We shall have to rearrange that for a later date,"

"_Patetico _(pathetic)!" He threw a knife at the Pope to stop him crawling closer. The unbearable stench of his decomposed body spread like wildfire around the room, causing Ezio to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The Pope began slithering on the floor, but his progress was slow. Ezio used this time to attempt an attack on Cesare but his hooded companion raised his arms protectively in front of him.

"Cesare, go. I will deal with him,"

"Grazie, my friend. Finish him off, will you?" snickered Cesare before slipping out through the back wall. The hooded man unsheathed his longsword and thrust forward towards Ezio, who instinctively dodged the blow. They circled each other cautiously, but Ezio's head was swimming in confusion.

"You helped us in the pub. Why?"

"To make sure you made your way here quick enough to confront us." replied the stranger, showing no signs of revealing his face under the dark hood.

"Why are you working with the Templars?"

"Why are you working with the Assassins?"

"I am an assassin."

"Then I guess that makes me indefinitely, a Templar."

Ezio circled the stranger, determination blazing in his words, "I do not have time for riddles, _messer_. Tell me who you are!"

"It is easier if you do not know who I am. It would give rise to many questions which would waste both my time, and yours."  
The stranger kept a distance now, almost as if he was afraid of Ezio finding out the truth. The truth would take a huge weight off his chest, yes but it would change everything.

Ezio made the next move and the stranger didn't resist. He fought back and all that could be heard for a long while was clash of metal on metal. The fight became exhausting as each of the men tried to hang on to their swords, their knuckles turning white. Cesare put his head through the door, realising he needed his friend's help.

"I require your presence,_ amico_. Come quick!"

"I will not be long, Cesare" replied the man, his sword hissing angrily as it cut through the air, narrowly missing his opponent. Ezio felt the slight gust of wind as his face was saved from such a damaging blow. He realised that moving back and forth on his feet was useless but when he lunged forward, his legs quivered and he stumbled, giving his opponent a chance to hook him into an armlock. Ezio let out a grunt in pain and lay paralysed under his opponent's grip. He was losing his touch.

"It is imperative that we hurry, Auditore." Cesare's careless outburst resulted in a sigh from the hooded man. The surname rang loudly in Ezio's ears. It was his own surname, but where was Cesare planning on taking him?

"Give me a minute," replied the stranger, applying brute force to a pressure point.

No, it couldn't be. He was the only Auditore left beside his sister, Claudia. He watched his father and little brother get executed; he watched his older brother tumble through the wooden floorboards, to his death. Even his dear mother had passed. This was impossible. He saw it with his own eyes! The man took his hood off which revealed a mask. Taking the mask off confirmed Ezio's darkest doubts. His face was moreorless the same as it was twenty-six years ago and Ezio saw his brother somewhere lurking under the wrinkles.

"Federico..." observed Ezio. It was really him; his best friend and his mischievous teacher who taught him all he needed to know during his youth about women. It had been too long. In a matter of seconds, he had forgotten his mission and smiled. Federico returned the smile, slowly releasing Ezio from the arm lock.

"I was hoping I would not have to do this, _fratello..._"

But before Ezio opened his mouth to ask what he was talking about, Federico struck the back of Ezio's head in the occipital ridge, causing him to lose consciousness instantly.

Ezio's hand flew to the back of his head hours later, where he felt a stinging pain. There was no blood; just a bruise. He had woken up back at the hideout with no recollection of what had happened. All he remembered was fighting the hooded man with all the viciousness he could muster at the time.

"How did you find me?" he asked La Volpe who was strolling casually around the room.

"It was strange for the doors to be bolted so tight, especially for the Pope's funeral which was supposedly made public. I had some of my men find other ways inside and that is when we found you. Along with dozens of other dead bodies and the Pope slithering on the ground."

"I see."

La Volpe looked up from under his hood, the first time his face was visible. It was obvious he was bewildered, but terrified even more.  
"Ezio, how did the Pope..."

"Come back to life? I am not entirely sure. Cesare had something in his hand. It was nothing I have ever seen before, shaped like a cross. He used that to bring him back. Another artefact, perhaps?"

"Perhaps, _amico_. But where would he have acquired such a thing? It contradicts everything the natural world has to offer."

"Then it must be destroyed. But first, we need to find a way to get it. I'm guessing Cesare escaped with the Apple too?"

"_Si_. How much do you remember, Ezio?"

Ezio rubbed his head. "Not much, unfortunately. The hooded man who helped us in your pub was there. But his face is blurry in my mind. I cannot seem to see it clearly. And his name too...began with the letter A."

"The letter A..." repeated La Volpe, racking his brains, "Astorino? Angerami? Avico?"

Ezio's head hurt and the surnames flashed in his mind as he carefully dismissed them. "No, no. It was familiar."

Come on, he thought. Think. And then it happened. He thought. He remembered. The aged face. The friendly face. His brother's face.

"Auditore," he swallowed with a poker face,"Federico Auditore."

* * *

**Extremely short chapter, I know. I just wanted to get the 'Federico's still alive!' thing out of the way. It was supposed to be revealed in the final chapter in the big showdown, but I realised I wanted to focus more on Chiara and her life, since the story is essentially about Chiara. Don't worry; there will still be a big finale! I'm getting more tiresome of this fanfic, so it might end sooner than you guys might think. I'm a little obsessed with Sherlock now; I'm Sherlocked!**

**Besides, I think many of you will agree with me when I say it's probably time to wrap up this fanfic. I'm dragging it out and it's no good at all. If you have opposing views, then don't hesitate to let me know! I will take your opinion into consideration.**

**I think many of you may have guessed the hooded man who appeared in many chapters was Federico Auditore...but if you didn't...SURPRISE!**

**If you liked it, leave a review!**


	20. Chapter 20

The fortuitous revelation was met with silence by La Volpe who thought Ezio had gone crazy. He tried reassuring him that it was his concussion which caused the memory loss and jumbled thoughts but Ezio was convinced he _knew_ very well what he had seen. He was prescribed bed rest for a few hours to recover and get some sleep but after the unfortunate encounter, it was impossible for sleep to even cross his weary mind. His brother was still alive; Federico Auditore, one of the three who were mercilessly hung in the Palazzo della Signoria in front of people misguided by the cutthroat words of Uberto Alberti. How was it possible? Did this mean Giovanni and Petruccio were still alive? Where did Federico stay all this time? With the Borgias? Did he regard them as family compared to his own? Did Maria and Claudia have any idea of his survival?

His bruised head was teeming with questions but the one which made its manifestation known was the monosyllabic word "why"; why would anybody support the Templar cause? The assassins' cause was bona fide. It was upright and represented the people of the world; not debauched gentility. Caterina and Federico did not belong there.

Claudia's veneer of diligence was the driving force behind the Brotherhood's progress over the next few weeks. She would visit as often as she could and hold meetings with a mixed crowd of thieves and courtesans about minor conflicts which would arise from time to time throughout the town.

The atmosphere in the hideout was passive due to everyone's self-concern about their own problems; Ezio spent every waking second absorbed in the familiar questions about Federico. It was imperative that he was found. A serious conversation between the two brothers was long overdue. La Volpe's business was declining because of strict Borgia curfews around the city and he was under a lot of stress to accommodate his thieves safely. Machiavelli withdrew himself from the affairs of his acquaintances and became obsessed with writing a book. Chiara, in the meantime was recovering speedily and unbeknown to the others, secretly training with Ilario. She thought it was a well-executed plan – the young recruit would be trained by Ezio, and then he would pass on the skills to Chiara. For the time being however, the training was limited to indoors due to Ezio's disapproval of Chiara leaving the musty hideout.

"We are in dire need of more recruits," announced Machiavelli one day, bursting into a Brotherhood meeting uninvited. The meeting consisted of the usual assassins, along with a handful of recruits, Ilario included and surprisingly, Chiara too.

"Niccolo, you were always one for stating the obvious. Look around. Of course we need more recruits," answered Ezio.

Machiavelli looked around embarassed and then cleared his throat to make his point clear, "No, no. I mean news has come in that Cesare is building a personal army of elites."

A messenger had arrived at the hideout in the dead of night, out of breath and panicking. He brought with him a replica of the blueprints depicting new state of the art artillery and a list of men who were being taught combat skills beyond what the assassins were capable of.

Chiara's hazel eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second, ablaze with ecstasy. This is my chance, she thought. This was a chance to prove she was more than an instrument for sexual pleasure. Ezio's words of rebuttal echoed in her head, "_This is no role for a woman. It is far too dangerous_". After all the dramatic events which had turned her life upside down, Chiara wasn't entirely sure what the word 'dangerous' meant anymore. Trying hard to surpress a grin of satisfaction, hoping nobody would see her smiling, she stared at the stone floor wondering how to convince Ezio that she could help with the recruitment. It would take a lot of hurtful words and defiance to let her do what she wanted but she was stronger now. She would argue her case for as long as it would take. The burst of confidence allowed her to breath deeply. Where does it come from, she wondered.

"In addition to all those first-hand men?" asked Ezio, cracking his fingers anxiously. Cesare truly was a spoilt child; always wanting more. He needed _more_ men because Ezio was cleverly picking them off one by one. The fight wasn't about quality anymore. It was about quantity.

"_Si_. I have a list of the men he has employed. Ezio...they are not being trained like our assassins are. Cesare has gone as far as procuring experts in martial arts from Eastern Asia. Their expertise is centuries old and no match for ours."

Things just took a turn for the worst, thought Chiara. Her excitement was short-lived and she saw Claudia looking distraught. She opened her mouth and shut it again unable to suggest anything logical.

"Can my courtesans help in any way?"

Machiavelli sneered rather harshly and sat down, "I don't think their so-called parlour tricks of seduction will come in handy here."

"Niccolo!" cried out Chiara to everyone's suprise. All eyes searched her face for a viable answer but she was hard to read. "There is much more to courtesans than cheap tricks,"

"I highly doubt it," he retorted.

"It seems. When was the last time you saw a woman in action, Niccolo? Courtesan, noblewoman or otherwise?"

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Did she really just snap at him like that? Her palms began to feel clammy and flushed scarlet as if she had literally slapped Niccolo. Ezio felt a smile tugging at his lips; who was this woman and what had she done with the Chiara he knew?

A beetroot red colour flooded into the tactician's cheeks, his face hanging down in embarrassment, "That is none of your concern, Madonna."

Folding her arms, Chiara tried finalising the situation, "Just as the courtesan's manouevres are none of yours."

"Now hold on one-"

"_Mio dio, _stop your bickering and let it go!"

Machiavelli slunk back in his seat and grit his teeth. He was now beginning to see how impossible and defensive Chiara Sforza could be. No wonder Cesare did what he did, he thought glaring at her. And then he registered just how monstrous his thoughts were sometimes and closed his eyes, mortified.

A few hours later and the recruits were sharpening the tips of their daggers, waiting for orders from Ezio who was speaking in hushed tones with La Volpe.

"Ezio?" asked Chiara, her nimble fingers lingering on his back which was turned against her.

He swiftly turned around, momentarily surprised by how close she was to him, "_Si_, Chiara?"

She asked the question boldly and without hesitation.

"Would you mind if I came with you?", she started and then began to ramble out of nervousness. She didn't mean to. She cursed inwardly at her loss of control. Thinking that she had her emotions in control was useless.

"I mean, I think I could help. Verbally, I think. You can use me. Sorry, I mean, to convince them. If you needed to. You can say no-"

"I do not mind," he interrupted, softly. And there she was again; the untamed but cautious young woman he had known. Ezio's emotions dilipidated with her voice alone. Then he realised what the chink in his armor was; his weakness. It was Chiara.

* * *

**Not too eventful, but hey, you can't have jam-packed emotions and action in _every_ chapter. A little more focus on Ezio and Chiara, like you lovely people wanted. It's not too intense, _just_ yet. **

**I was going to have a scene where Chiara is just too kick-ass for Ezio's awe-struck heart. Eh, might do it in the next one. **

**Happy reading, guys! ~Mocha**


	21. Chapter 21

The cold air prickled Chiara's skin. The prickling didn't bother her; instead, she embraced the freedom she was given, even if it was going to last a few hours. She pulled away from the window.

A burgundy cloak embroidered with intricate weaves on closer inspection was on the bed. It used to belong to Ezio's mother and was a gift from his father back in the days when they were newlyweds. _"It will help you stay incognito"_, Ezio had said. Why _this_ cloak, Chiara wondered. Why not one of the ones the recruits wore? It was too much. It was a family heirloom, a treasure and Chiara's possession of it would destroy the intimacy.

Three light raps on the door announced Ilario's presence, "We are leaving now, Madonna."

"_Bene_, but can you ask Ezio if I can have a cloak like yours. This will draw too much attention, will it not?" asked Chiara, picking up the cloak and throwing it around her shoulders. It covered her head to toe, only leaving her hands, feet and face in total view.

"The idea is that it will not draw any attention at all. The guards will have been informed that you will be disguised discreetly, like any other civilian in the street. As far as they are concerned, Madonna, you are dressed like a beggar, slipping through crowds. Using _this_ cloak," he motioned, pointing to the woolly cloak on the bed, "You will appear as a regular noblewoman."

"I hadn't considered that. That is a very well thought deduction, Ilario."

Ilario beamed, happy to have received a compliment but it was not his to take, "I cannot take the praise. It was maestro Ezio's idea."

Was Ezio protective of her because he felt obliged to? After everything her sister had done, Chiara felt she was the one who owed him her life. The one who would undo the wrongs Caterina had done. It was common courtesy, was it not, to show mutual tendencies of protection?

Chiara was unsure how to react and simply fastened the pewter clasp, "All done."

The outside world was in complete and utter chaos. It had rained prior to their arrival and the dusty roads smelled strongly of rainwater. It would have been a pleasant smell, since Chiara loved immersing herself in the torrents of rain during the spring season in Milan, but with the strong stench of death and decay everywhere, how could that be possible?

This was supposed to be Roma, the "eternal city" as the world called had it but from Chiara's eyes, it looked like the once-beautiful city had died an early death. Poverty was worse than when she had first stepped foot there, just after Monteriggioni had been destroyed. Beggars occupied one in three streets. Before it used to be pockmarked old men and women with sun-hardened tanned faces who had their wrinkled palms extended for a few spare florins, but now it had gone as far as children, as young as seven. It was unacceptable. These Templars had lost the rights to call themselves human when their heartless regimes were instigated into law. Chiara scoffed under the hood; _and they believe they are enlightening this corrupt world._

The assassins walked street after street with Chiara, looking for the right people to join the Brotherhood, but it was near enough impossible. The extravagant churches and squares merged with the backdrop of the cloudy sky, to the point where there was nothing to see, just ordinary buildings and paths.

"Look!" exclaimed one of the older recruits, Nestore Migliore.

Everyone's head snapped to the right, where a tall cage stood in front of a stone building containing women and children. Unlocking the door to the cage would be easy enough if there weren't six guards stationed within the perimeter.

Four of the guards had split into pairs and strolled away in the opposite direction to each other. Two of the burly guards were left guarding the women and children. Before turning the corner, Ezio gave them their orders.

"_Ascoltare le mie istruzioni con attenzione_ (listen to my instructions carefully). La Volpe and I will climb this roof level just above the captives. We will dispatch the two guards silently and after we do, regroup with us. Until then, stay out of harm's way and blend with the crowds close to us. _Capito _(understood)?"

Ilario, Nestore, and Claudia nodded along with Peretto Calderon, an informally-promoted first rank assassin.

He then continued, "If the other guards get involved, do not hesitate to fight. Chiara, that does not include you. You should stay in the crowd."

His attention was fixated on Chiara. He needed assurance that she would do as she was told. After all, he had brought her out precariously because he found himself unable to say no to her.

"But-"

"Please," settled Ezio, a pleading look in his eyes.

She sighed silently and nodded. He would have to forgive her for her deception. Chiara was here to fight, not stand back in the shadows and watch as an onlooker. The four of them watched as Ezio naturally pulled himself up on the ledges and scaled the walls. The sun began to set, evident in the soft fusion of dusty pinks and oranges streaking the sky.

Chiara reluctantly found herself moving with the throng of early-evening crowds, remembering to maintain a reasonable distance between her and the others. The chatter of the crowds buzzed all around. She couldn't focus on one in order to drown out the rest. It was distracting to the extent that she didn't realise the four guards who had walked away were now knee-deep in a fight with the others. Panic gripped the onlookers as some of them claimed Ezio was '_il diavolo stesso_ (the devil himself)'.

"_Cazzo!_" she cursed, as a few shameful glances were thrown her way. Something held her back from fighting with them. Or better yet, someone. Through the hysterical voices which were screaming for guards, Chiara narrowed down two voices. A young girl and a baby boy; a plea for help and a wail. Her curiosity got the better of her and Chiara elbowed civilians out of the way. A moment ago, she would have attempted to send the guards to hell herself regardless of who was watching, but now she was the humanitarian she had always dreamt of being.

"Help me! Help, please!" yelled a dark-haired young girl who could not have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Her dirty, matted hair was braided behind her back and her malnutritioned figure was beginning to show under the limp rags she wore. She held in one hand, a small rock and in the other, a lump of bread. Surrounding her were two ordinary guards, stepping back and forth in an attempt to provoke the girl. Behind the girl was a wooden crate on top of which lay a baby boy bundled in a single blanket and a mug of something which Chiara could not see.

"These people fear us, _puttana_. Nobody is going to help you now," and it was true. The few civilians, who were walking past, cowered away in fear and turned their backs on the young girl.

"Please! I have been hungry for days now. This piece of bread is all I have. And the milk is all my baby has."

"That is too bad. We have been hungry too, haven't we, Luigi?" grinned one of the guards sardonically. His ugly grin showed yellowed, bared teeth. The innuendo sent a stab of disgust piercing through Chiara's stomach. This city was reeking with spineless bastards and they would have to step over her dead body to lay one finger on an innocent.

Putting her life and possibly the mother and her baby's on the line, Chiara put on her best smile and tried using charm to handle the situation.

"_Mio cari signori _(my dear gentlemen), the girl is begging for mercy. Would it not save you time to just leave her in peace?"

"_Mi scusi_ (excuse me)?" replied Luigi, turning his head to sound of Chiara's voice. He too, along with his acquaintance, had aging lines on his gaunt face. The mere thought of him touching the young girl was enough to make Chiara retch.

Chiara stepped into view. They needed to see what they were dealing with, "You are excused," she joked. She felt a slight tremble pulsing through her arms as she reached for her recurve bow under her cloak.

"I think you have mistaken us for ordinary men, _signora_. It is best if you leave before this situation becomes very very nasty."

Instead of heeding his warning, Chiara stepped forward. Aligning themselves with her movement, the guards shifted on their feet and pointed their swords towards her. The girl had moved out of their range and scooped up the baby in her arms, soothing his desperate cries. Anybody else would have ran. Ran away like there was no tomorrow, but not her. Chiara began to doubt whether the girl had enough energy left in her thin body to run.

"One more step and we will have no choice but to ruin that pretty face of yours," Luigi assumed, trying to control what was going on. If he thought flattery was going to work merged with death threats, he would have to try again, thought Chiara.

"Your _maestro_ Cesare has already done that," she remarked coldly, pulled her hood down and exposing her fleshy pink scars on her left cheek. The guard's mouth twisted into an 'o' shape, unable to hide his surprise but Chiara was untainted by whatever was coming - sympathy or bloodshed.

"Just go home, _Madonna_. You have no business here and we will not harm you."

"Oh, I will go home. Just as soon as you walk away and leave the young girl alone."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because, if my calculations are correct, I can dispose of you both before you are within five feet of me," she replied, brandishing her lemonwood bow. The evening sky was turning an ugly shade of purple now, reminding her of her bruises. Pulling a silver-tipped arrow from under her cloak, she mounted it onto the arrow rest and pulled back the string. Looking through the window of the bow, she shut one eye to clear her vision. The girl had grabbed the mug of milk and walked towards Chiara.

"Stay behind me. They will not hurt you, I promise."

A tiny bit of hope flickered in bright green eyes and the girl nodded. The adrenaline rush was pumping through Chiara's veins even before the fight had started but was interrupted by a stern and fearful growl.

"Chiara! What are you doing?"

"Pointing a recurve bow at two guards, Ezio. Is that not obvious?"

Luigi now pointed his sword towards Ezio, who shook his head with disappointment.

"This fight never ends," he murmured to himself and clashed his sword with Luigi's.

The other guard jumped up, started and made a run towards Chiara whose nimble fingers gently released the arrow with a modest flick of her wrist. The unusually harsh blow pushed the guard backwards as he clutched the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He let out a yelp and Chiara reached for another arrow. Following the same tiny routine, she looked through the bow window, making sure the guard was perfectly in view. _Flick_. She let the arrow fly away again and this time the hit was fatal. He was dead.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" asked Ezio, astonished after killing Luigi who lay on the ground, sprawled. He looked at Chiara with awe - in a different light. Who was she _really_? Ezio had seen so many different sides of her, he didn't know which to grow attached to. One minute she was a shy woman who longed for her sister's love, making sacrifices and getting herself into trouble. The next minute, she transformed into a fierce lioness; a beautiful butterfly breaking free from a cacoon, unnerved by the dangers of the real world.

Chiara's words came out distasteful and bland unintentionally, "It's a long story."

The assassin folded his arms and smiled, "I have time."

"But she may not," gestured Chiara to the girl who was standing silently behind her.

There was a moment of disagreement regarding what was to be done about her between Ezio and Chiara. The assassin suggested she travel to Florence and leave the baby to be cared for in the _Ospedale degli Innocenti _(Hospital of the Innocents), which served as care home for foundlings.

"That is preposterous! A mother cannot give her child up like that. Not after forming such an intense bond during and after birth. It would be less cruel to kill her than snatch her baby away."

"You have a point. I think I know what you are thinking. You want her to stay in the hideout until she recovers, am I right?"

A half-smile and a nod was plenty to tip the scales in Ezio's mind of logic and reason. Chiara's specked hazel eyes, unruly head of curls, and that big, bleeding heart had set his priorities straight. But Ezio decided to live through a few more encounters before fooling himself with love.

"_Va bene_. I surrender. She can stay until she is well. And from there, we will make a decision about where she should go."

"_Grazie mille_, Ezio," replied Chiara, quickly planting a kiss on Ezio's cheek. That was all it was. A slight peck on the cheek. But her own cheeks had flamed red with desire. It was unwomanly and inappropriate. She realised that after looking away.

Turning her attention to the silent mother and her baby, she asked "Are you alright, _mia cara_?"

"_Si_. Thank you...so much for what you have done. I owe you my life."

The young girl had a soft and timid voice which clearly belonged to a girl, not yet a woman.

"Where will you go? You can come with us if you want...we should hurry though before other _imbecilli_ smell blood and appear," offered Ezio.

The girl smiled with a torn expression and handed the baby to Chiara, who cradled the soft-skinned little being carefully. He had an odd tuft of silky strawberry-blonde hair and vacant, blue eyes.

"I have a small bag of possessions. It is all I have and I hid it in that alley just over there."

"Go and fetch it. We will be right here. Hurry back," smiled Ezio, putting one hand on her shoulder in a friendly manner.

"My name is Marcella, by the way."

"I am Ezio Auditore, and this is Chiara Sforza."

The girl nodded, cast one long look at her child, and on the verge of tears, turned her back. And then she ran. She ran and never came back.

* * *

**Gosh, it feels like I haven't written a long-ish chapter in months! Or have I?**

**Welcome new followers, guest reviewers and awesome people who add my story to their favourites (I'm honored!)**

**I can feel this story getting closer to the end! You know the drill - drop a review and tell me what you thought!**

**~Mocha**


	22. Chapter 22

**A bit of a mushy chapter; just to get the story moving. Marlene will certainly enjoy the last part!**

* * *

Ezio and Chiara glanced back and forth at each other, and then at the little baby who was staring intently at them. The distance between where the three people were standing behind a wall and the alley where Marcella claimed to have gone must have been a four minute walk at the most. So where was she?

"Do you find it strange that she is not back yet?" asked Chiara.

Ezio frowned, scanning the sky. It would be nightfall soon. The guard duties would change and more of the _bastardos_ would check this same path and discover the dead bodies.

"Very much so, Chiara. Should I go-"

"No. Let me. I will be back in a few minutes."

When Ezio had opened his mouth to retort, Chiara read his mind and reiterated, "A few minutes. Keep watch if you need to but out of sight!"

It was as if the young woman had read his thoughts. He nodded in agreement and mumbled a passive '_va bene_' before the baby was thrust into his arms.

"Hold him," ordered Chiara as she rearranged her cloak to cover her completely.

"I have never held a baby before," said Ezio, looking at the chubby face which stared back with inquisitiveness.

"Never?" asked Chiara, readying an arrow in position on her longbow. She had an urge to laugh. Ezio was such a boy sometimes. He was being too careful with the baby, fiddling with his arms, pointing it this way and that.

"Never."

"If it makes you feel any better, the first time I held a baby, I dropped him. He was wriggling in my arms and then he fell. He was not hurt, _grazie a dio_ but his mother chased me with a stick and banished me from their home."

"That's one way of handling the situation."

"It was Caterina, none other than my angelic sister so it makes sense."

"That reassures me very much," replied Ezio staring straight past Chiara and into nothing in particular. That damned woman's name made his blood curl and at the same time broke his heart.

"_Mi dispiace_," apologised Chiara, reading his face like an open book.

"For what?"

Chiara bit her lip angrily as her stomach churned, "For everything she has done to you. To your family. Your uncle's home."

Standing in a controlled and dignified fashion with the baby who was now quiet, he replied "None of it was your fault, Chiara."

"Even so. All this business with Templars..it..it's just not right."

"As a matter of fact," began Ezio with a hint of passion in his otherwise apologetic tone, "I should be imploring your forgiveness. If I had not let my lust overtake logic, we would not be in such a fragile position. You would have been safe."

"With a Templar as a sister, I doubt I could ever be safe," replied Chiara, letting out a nervous chuckle, terrified to the core deep down.

"You could have been safe from Cesare, at least. What he did to you..."

Chiara exhaled slowly and turned to go but then stopped, regarding Ezio over her shoulder with an intense, pained stare that left him both dejected and thrilled at the same time, "...is something I have learned to live with. I am perfectly fine."

She smiled faintly and left. Ezio watched as her dark figure disappeared from view.

The alley was dark and completely empty - not a human being in sight, neither guards nor Marcella. Chiara ran down the alley, the sound of her steps bouncing off the walls and out onto the street, searching the crowds desperately. A patrol of guards began walking in her direction and still, Marcella was not in sight. This is bad, she thought.

She turned her head, almost colliding with a twiglike figure who dropped a piece of paper as she dashed past. It was the girl.

"Wait! Come back!" yelled Chiara, picking up the piece of paper and running. The guards caught the outcry but didn't get a chance to catch her as she turned the same corner Marcella had. Chiara was greeted by great crowds of civilians again. _Do these people ever sleep_, she thought. Voices buzzed in her ears, faces flashed in her face and she admitted defeat. Marcella could have easily lost herself in the crowd. Chiara began walking back and as she did so, held the piece of paper in the moonlight.

_"Tell Pepe I am sorry."_

"Where is she?" asked Ezio, noticing the absence of the girl when Chiara returned.

She doubled over, taking a moment to catch her breath from all the running, "She's..she is gone, Ezio."

"What do you mean 'gone'?"

Chiara threw her hands up in the air, frustrated and vengeful, "I wish I knew! She left this note and disappeared. I could not find her Ezio."

"What do we do with this child?"

"Pepe." stated Chiara, taking the baby from Ezio's arms. He was sound asleep.

"What?"

"His name..it's Pepe."

"_Lui è così piccolo _(he is so small)!" remarked Claudia, who came as soon as she heard the news of a baby in the assassin's household, "We cannot give him away!"

Machiavelli glared from the other side of the room, glancing at the baby being cooed in Claudia's arms.

"He is not ours to keep, Claudia."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Niccolo."

"How childish of you."

While Machiavelli and Claudia bickered like an old married couple, the others were narrowing down options.

So far, keeping Pepe at the _Rosa Del Fiore_ with the courtesans and at _La Volpe Addormentata_ with the thieves, had been crossed off the list. Neither were ideal environments to bring up a child. They had already established that physically searching for Marcella would be impractical and virtually impossible. They only had her first name to go by.

Keeping Pepe at the hideout would be risky. He had already lived with the assassins for a week. The location was safe for now, but how long before a swarm of Borgia guards would infiltrate this place?

"The orphanage," sighed Chiara after a throbbing headache, "Ospedale degli Innocenti."

"Isn't that in Florence?" asked Ilario.

Both Ezio and Chiara nodded. As much as the latter didn't want to lose the little bundle of joy keeping her busy in the hideout, it was the only option left.

"I wish there was another way," she said, looking at the baby boy who had grown considerably more in the last week. Pepe was the one keeping Chiara up night after night and as exhausting as it was, she enjoyed it. She loved the way Pepe's tiny fingers would wrap around her thumb, clutching it as if he would never let it go. It was hard to comfort him for the first few days, since he didn't have his mother around but things changed. Chiara embraced the change.

"I can guarantee he will be in good hands," assured Ezio, dipping a quill in ink and scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

"How so?"

"The orphanage is maintained by Don Vincenzio Borghini. He was employed by the Medici's who are good people. They also owe my family a favour. This can be it."

She nodded and stared at the baby, lost in thought.

"Can I take him?" asked Claudia.

"What about the brothel?" replied her brother.

"I am sure they will survive for a few days. Also, I doubt Chiara is up for the job."

Ezio turned his attention from writing the letter and saw the look of recognition between Chiara and the baby.

"She won't be able to do it, am I right? She cannot bear to give the boy away."

"_Si_, _fratello_. Which is why I should go. I have a heart of stone and this task will prove it."

"Ouch, Claudia. That cuts me deeply. You have no love for your brother, either?"

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "You know what I mean, Ezio."

Then the matter was settled. By the next morning, a carriage was ready to take Claudia, Pepe and Peretto to Florence. Peretto was there for protection. Chiara refused privately to leave her room. She hated the constant losses in her life; one after the other, people would come and go - her father, her mother, her sister, her friends from home, Machiavelli, Lucrezia and now Pepe.

"They are ready to leave, Chiara." stated Ezio, from outside the door. He knocked but Chiara didn't answer.

"Chiara?"

"I am tired. Please leave me be."

"But Pepe is leaving. The least you could do is see him off. I thought you had grown fond of the little boy?"

"That was my problem," she muttered, before lurching forward and sinking to the floor in misery.

Ezio gently opened the door to find Chiara crying. Involuntary sobs racked her and shook her body. She wasn't just crying about Pepe, she was crying about everything. He couldn't blame her. One thing they had in common was the fact that both their lives consisted of consecutive losses.

"I cannot say goodbye, Ezio. I do not know how to."

"But you must, Chiara. You must harden your heart and give Pepe the freedom he requires. Being here means being a prisoner. Being in the orphanage, however, gives him a chance to step back into a society as his own person."

"It is so unfair."

He nodded. He couldn't take it anymore; the urges and desires to be close to her. It would not work out given the circumstances.

"Stay," she pleaded, when Ezio stood up to leave.

"I cannot."

"_Bene_."

He turned around and beyond all self-control, lost his temper.

"Dammit, woman. Why do you never pry?"

Chiara did not stir at his anger, but instead remained on the floor, dazed.

"Are you not curious as to why I cannot stay here with you?" he asked with earnest.

"Oh, I am curious but I am afraid of the answer,"

Lowering her gaze, Chiara's heart began to pound through her chest. She strained to keep her focus on his words and not on the movement of his lips as he spoke.

"I am in love with you, Chiara Sforza! God help me, I love you with every breath in my body."

Startled, Chiara looked at him. His handsome face held an expression of desperation and awe. She couldn't find the right word to describe it.

He continued, "I have tried _so_ hard to fight these feelings. It is something frightening and exciting at the same time, Chiara. I have never felt this way before and the longer I stay in your presence, the more I have to fight. But I am tired of fighting. Day after day, I love you more and I can't find a reason to stop. You are nothing like the women I have met in my lifetime. You are stubborn, yet so delicate. You can be impetuous and fierce yet you have a heart made of gold. When I make you smile, I feel like the richest and happiest man in the world. It feels like a great accomplishment and I love that feeling, Chiara...I love you."

Ezio had never felt so vulnerable in his life. He felt naked and stripped of his sanity standing in Chiara's presence. He leaned forward and with an odd look of vulnerability, rested his palm against her cheek.

"Please do not make me fight for your affections any longer. I beg of you," he murmured. He saw longing and joy rise in Chiara's eyes but panic too. She was panicking, unsure how to respond. When Niccolo had declared his love for her, she was bitter. But when Ezio did the same, she felt calm. Blissful. But then she thought of Cesare. From all the people her mind would think of, it was Cesare. Ezio realised it too. At once, he pulled his hand back as if scalded and jumped to his feet.

"Forgive me. I did not mean to scare you. I am no better than Niccolo. He jumped at an opportunity to pull you in and I am doing the same."

"You are nothing like Niccolo. This is different."

He whirled around, distraught, "How so? Niccolo was in love with you too!"

"He _was_ in love with me," whispered Chiara.

"Then how is my behaviour any different to Niccolo's?"

"I am not in love with Niccolo." She flushed, started by her own words and by their brazenness; she was helpless but she didn't regret admitting it for one second.

The tired assassin fell silent, holding himself back. He was unsure which of them initiated the kiss but in a moment, they were locked in an embrace, lips against lips, body against body. Neither resisted, surrending to the sweetness of the kiss with an equal amount of passion.

"I am not in love with Niccolo," whispered Chiara, breaking off from the kiss, ignoring the blood rushing to her ears.

Ezio parted his lips slightly, hungry for more and hungry for the words he had longed to hear.

"I am in love with _you_, Ezio."


	23. Chapter 23

A moment later, Ezio couldn't take it anymore. His lips were locked with Chiara's as his hands cupped her face. Every inch of him burned with a new-found desire. He wanted her. He needed her. Suddenly, he couldn't imagine his life without her. The roaring passion ignited from a spark and Chiara's modesty ran away from her reserved mind; her hands were now running through his hair. His hands were ever so gently sliding down her body, finding a place on her waist. The kiss intensified, more and more. Ezio carefully wiped all traces of tears from Chiara's face.

The world outside their tight embrace didn't exist anymore. Kisses were now being left in tingled trails on her neck and on his head. She didn't want him to stop. He didn't want to stop. Just before Ezio got carried away with his desires and went further in their act, Chiara pulled away breathless.

"We cannot do this, Ezio. Somebody will see us."

"This is your room. Who would possibly come inside without having the decency to make you aware of their presence?"

His question was answered by his sister walking inside uninvited.

"Claudia," observed Chiara, half-smiling. It was a lucky save and if she and Ezio were tangled in each other's kisses any longer, emotions would be running high.

Ezio returned a knowing glance and lowered his eyes in defeat.

"I forgot to take Pepe's blanket! He will need it for nightfall."

"Come, I will bring it," replied Chiara, "I need to wish him farewell, after all."

She held her palm out to Ezio who was holding the blanket, admiring its softness and cheekily, he took her hand instead. Instantly, the young woman blushed a furious shade of scarlet and snatched her hand away, "The blanket, Ezio."

The assassin chuckled, amazed at the effect of his actions and stood up. As he walked by, he draped the blanket around Chiara's shoulders lingering for just a moment, unspoken words silently passing between them. He left the room without looking back and said he had things to discuss with Peretto before he left.

Claudia noticed something between them. A shy and tangible love; one which had existed for a long time but came out in the open mere minutes ago.

"You and my brother have finally professed your love for each other."

"Were you eavesdropping, mi amica?" asked Chiara with a smile.

A grin, undisguised with sincerity spread from one cheek to another as Claudia shook her head.

"I did not need to," she replied taking the blanket and folding it. "It is evident in the way you both compose yourself around each other. Before, it may have been concealed under anger and tears but not anymore. Now you show it with rosy cheeks and fleeting looks. I see it. I make myself look away because I feel like I am invading the privacy shared so lovingly between my brother and my closest friend."

Chiara frowned, feeling a cold chill creep up her sleeve.

"I hope I have not angered you. The last thing I would want to do is offend you by loving Ezio."

Tears welled up in Claudia's eyes.

"_Mai_! If anything, I am happy. It is about time Ezio found someone who does not chew him up and spit him out like a child's toy. After losing my father and brothers, he was distraught. Nothing was the same for him anymore and I think the only thing keeping him alive was Cristina Vespucci."

"Cristina?"

"He was her first love. After the way she died…it was almost as if he had died alongside her. I never thought I would get my brother back again but I did. And I thank the heavens every day for blessing us both with your presence."

"How did she…what happened to her?" asked Chiara, eager to know about Ezio's past. She only knew him as the affectionate brother of Claudia, the loyal nephew of Mario, the concerned son of Maria, and the forlorn dupe of Caterina. But what would he be to her?

"Ezio will tell you in his own time. But first, answer me this."

"Anything."

"When is the wedding?"

_Wedding_. The word rang through Chiara's ears as loud as the bells of Campanile di San Marco. She had dreamt of weddings in her teenage years. She had imagine the perfect traditional wedding for herself - the prospective groom asking the father for his daughter's hand in marriage, organising a trosseau of household items for her new home, throwing the rice for luck, releasing doves and the glorious moment when everyone would wish them both "_Evviva gli sposi_ (hurray for the newlyweds)".

Being around Ezio was a turbulent hurricane in itself. Her feelings ran amok and violence seemed to call his name. Chiara had not given herself time to consider the ups and downs of a real relationship. She wanted children someday, a boy and a girl. If her love for her mother had not burned so bright, she would have gone against her mother's wishes for finding Caterina. If she had not found Caterina, she would not have met Ezio though. To her, it was debatable whether it was a good thing or not. On the one hand, she had learned to find love and hope for the crumbling world out there with Ezio. On the other hand, she had discovered a distorted and ugly side of humanity by encountering the Templars.

Her body froze momentarily before she gasped.

"Claudia!" scolded Chiara, even though she was the younger one of the two. She narrowed her eyes and smirked, "You are worse than your brother."

The younger Auditore burst into laughter and Chiara shook her head, blushing.

"_Va bene, va bene_. At least let me be the maid of honour. I am the best at handling finances around here and a suitable candidate."

"You mean the only candidate." replied Chiara, joining in with the laughter hysterically. The laughing fit caused them both to collapse on the floor, grabbing each other's arms for support and for a short while, everything was perfect. Chiara was happy; happier than she had been in years but even she knew deep down that happiness was short-lived and knowing the situation she was in, she doubted there would ever be a wedding.

The next day, the only people left in the hideout was Chiara and Ilario. The sun was burning bright that day, a perfect reflection of the elated feelings in the air and cautiously, she was permitted to train outside but within the walls.

"Lunge, _Madonna_!" ordered the young boy, holding his dagger sideways above his head.

Chiara circled Ilario with her stiletto, eyeing him. She rolled her sleeves up slowly. The boy was nervous. Recently, it seemed the more Chiara trained with him, the more shaky he acted around her. It was worrying.

"And risk stabbing your poor little heart? Absolutely not!"

"But _Maestro_ Ezio taught me that you should lunge from where you are standing if the opponent does not move. To provoke them, I suppose."

"It seems dangerous from where I am standing. Maybe in a real battle, I will consider it but right now, I see a young, small teenage boy in front of me. Not an armored Templar."

"I can defend myself, _Madonna_. I swear," pleaded Ilario.

The young boy looked insolent but only because he was trying to prove a point.

"_Bene_. I will not hurt you then."

Ilario looked like he wanted to cower away in fear but instead, stood his ground and held his dagger in front of his face.

Chiara lightly stepped from her left foot to right, familiarising herself with the stability of the sword handle. Her mind flashed back to the statue she propped herself on during the siege of Monteriggioni; the way the crossbow felt so familiar in her hand helped her regain the mental consciousness of a fighter. But she had to refrain from thinking too intensely about the crimes of the Templars. She knew that one day she'd be too absorbed in her thoughts about how cold-blooded they were to realise what she was doing and then cause serious damage. Instead, she tried a new technique. She imagined Ezio, standing in all his might and charm. That would help since she knew with every breath she took that she could not harm him in any way. She lunged forward and the tip of her dagger gracefully tapped Ilario's chest. She didn't push it in any further. But then she caught his eye; Ezio's. He stood at the doorway, arms folded and grinning. An impulsive burst of pleasure filled her and she returned the smile, lost in its warmth.

"_Madonna!_" cried Ilario, stumbling backwards.

Chiara's head turned to the sound of his voice and saw Ilario clutching his arm. She had dug the dagger into his arm without realising. She blinked a few times, thinking Ezio was just an illusion but he ran over and turned Ilario's arms. There was a light cut, but nothing more.

"Go and apply some ointment, Ilario. There are some bandages in the front hall in the wooden chest."

"_Mi dispiace_, Ilario! I had no idea!" exclaimed Chiara, horrified at what she had just done.

"It is just a scratch."

"Come, let me clean it up."

Ilario shook his head, "_Onestamente _(honestly), Madonna. I was just surprised you had so much strength in you."

Ezio let out a low chuckle as Chiara rolled her eyes. "I suppose you do not want to see me when I have twice the strength I just illustrated?"

Ilario frowned, positively worried.

"I am teasing you. Go and take some rest."

"Do me a favour and pick up a stock of ointment from the _dottore_. We have almost finished our supply, it seems. There are a few coins in the larder."

"_Si_, _maestro_."

Ilario lowered his head before leaving and Chiara apologised once again. When Ilario shut the door behind him, Ezio surprised Chiara with a soft kiss.

She stopped the kiss, taking a deep breath. "What was that for?"

Ezio lowered his hood and cupped her face, "I have been waiting to do that all day, _mi amore_. Do not deprive me of something so small yet so powerful."

"And if I were to deprive you of it? What would you do?" she asked, smiling.

The assassin feigned a look of deep thought and answered, "Then I would have to make you give it back."

"That is very convincing, I admit."

"I have my ways," grinned Ezio. Chiara swept her fingers over his cheekbones, feeling the prickling of his stubble on the tips of her fingers. It was the first time she had been so comfortable around a man. She was open to the idea of exploring his past and getting to know him. With Cesare, it was abuse. A constant plethora of abuse day in and day out. The gripping terror she felt whenever she thought about him didn't appear this time. All traces of it was gone. Now she was just disgusted at the idea of his pale, cold hands gripping her curly hair as he raped her and how he pinned her down until she was paralysed under him. She could not help but admit Cesare was a handsome man but his arrogance and anger preceded all the good inside him; if any existed.

Clearing her mind of Cesare's torture, she had an inkling something was wrong.

"Wait. We are not out of ointment! In fact, Claudia bought a whole box from the dottore just yesterday."

The assassin wrapped a strand of Chiara's brown hair around his finger, smirking. "I am aware of that."

"Then why did you..." started Chiara, narrowing her eyes and then coming to the conclusion much slower than she should have. He wanted to be alone with her and she admired his tactics.

"He spends more time with you than I do."

"Jealous?"

"_Tanto_ (very)."

The way he growled the single world portrayed his honesty. He was truly in love with her and the thought of any man seeing her more than he did pained him. The time spent apart during Chiara's imprisonment was a deep struggle consisting of sleepless nights and unnecessary arguments with his companions.

"A little rivalry will not hurt," replied the young woman, initiating the kiss this time. She pulled him close, clinging to him like a life line. The kiss was soft yet insistent, loving but possessive. The slow sensual kiss turned wilder with time, replaced by an infernal urgency.

The couple parted their lips, gasping for air.

"Come," insisted Ezio, taking Chiara's arm and inside one of the bedrooms. It was an unused bedroom which glowed softly with the same regular candles used everywhere else in the hideout. Chiara neared the bed but the assassin arrested her with his velvety yet brooding voice.

"Are you..do you think you are ready for this?" he asked softly.

Chiara was near trembling with desperation to consummate the affair but managed to lift her chin confidently, "Only if you are."

In reply, he stripped off his armor, the clinking of metal hitting the stone floor. The weapons were thrown carelessly to the side and with swiftness, he removed his boots, his robes and finally his shirt, revealing a high, well-muscled chest she had seen once before. Ezio hesitated whether he should go further but felt like he should make himself humbly available for her. With Cristina it had been love mingled with lust. With Caterina, it was merely lust. But with Chiara, it was love; pure love, unaffected by any burdens or obstacles.  
He placed his hand on the band of his pants and Chiara's heaving chest and breathlessness gave him the answer he wanted. He pulled the pants down over his sculpted thighs and when he was finished, he rose and stood.

The young woman stared in awe. She had never seen a fully naked man before. Even Cesare had never removed his tunic and only lowered his leggings as far as necessary. But here was Ezio, entirely naked in the candlelight and revealed. It was her turn now. Like a lady-in-waiting, the assassin stealthily moved behind her, and with surprising skill acquired from many years of womanising, began untying her sleeves. Chiara let out a small laugh at the sudden sense of freedom they now had. There was nobody to stop them or see them. She kissed the top of his head as he knelt down and unlaced her bodice. It felt natural. There was nothing to fear with Ezio. She pulled her gown down and stepped out in a hurry. He pulled the chemise over her head and took a step back, as if admiring a work of art. She untied her unruly hair and Ezio drew his fingers through it, sighing and studying Chiara.

"What have I done to deserve this?"

"You have learned to love again," she replied kissing Ezio full on the lips.

The kiss led them both to the bed. They lost track of who was controlling who - there were traces of wildness in their love which both lovers possessed and it allowed them to be equal. They moved in unison, alternating between extreme delicacy and ferocity.

At the end of the night, when it was evident the night would be a sleepless one, Ezio muttered two words in Chiara's ear which she had been dreading ever since his dear sister Claudia planted it in her mind, "Marry me."

* * *

**I'm weeks late with this - I know. And I can't express my apologies enough. Those readers who speak to me personally will know how busy I have been with my last few months of exams before I go to university.  
I hope this satisfied your cravings and though it may have been all sentimental and mushy, you should know by now I'm unpredictable with my twists.**

~Mocha


	24. Chapter 24

Ezio gently brushed a stray tendril of hair behind Chiara's ear, "Say you will marry me, Chiara."

Such words thrilled the young woman but she could not deny the facts. "You are an assassin," she said, "And the most wanted man in all of Italia."

He touched her cheek. "I want to give you children. We could go to Milan. I know you must miss it sometimes. If not, there is always Florence. I miss my home too. Our children would be happy there."

Chiara was near weeping. Ezio had read her heart and mind and he was right - she did miss her home. But such a thing seemed, at the time, quite impossible. Was Ezio so lost in the moment that he forgot the harsh truths of their situation? They were in a hideout on a tiny little island, away from the city of Rome which was teeming with Borgia influence in every direction. A minute spent in the sunlight was a minute wasted living in fear, hoping they would not be seen by the enemy.

"Soon."

She did not want to nurse false hopes as much as she wanted to marry him but hoped he would not press either.

"Soon," she repeated once again, "When this fight is over."

After the exhaustion of passion brought them to a halt, they lay for a while on the bed. Neither of them spoke; Chiara definitely could not as her throat was rendered quite hoarse. Her hair stuck to her arms, her back and her chest with perspiration. At long last, Chiara fell asleep and Ezio turned to her and smoothed the tendrils on her forehead, listening to her soft, wheezing breath. He looked up in the darkness, staggered at how quickly the day had passed without any disturbance from the few recruits lurking around the hallways. He dwelled in sweet rapture, reliving the fervent moments of bliss before falling asleep next to the woman he would gladly die for.

The next morning, Machiavelli informed Ezio of the location of a Borgia courier who would be passing through the west side of Rome. Rather amiably, Niccolo wished the assassin good luck, reassuring him that he would be able to retrieve the letter in no time. It struck Ezio with guilt that Niccolo did not know about his and Chiara's relationship. The wounds from their competitive feud was starting to heal but news of this betrayal would hurt his companion.

"Good morning. _Bella mattina non e vero _(beautiful morning is it not)?"

Ezio whirled around to the sound of her voice. Chiara came out of her room, bright-eyed and beaming. They had slept together in a spare room; when did she find the time to slip back into her own? She was full of surprises.

"_Si_." Machiavelli's breath still caught in his throat when he saw her as his guilt would be evident in her face. But he had never seen her so animated.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Ezio, trying to suppress a smile.

"Like I have no care in the world," she replied earnestly, unaware that Machiavelli's skills as a diplomat were far more advanced than they had known; his thoughts were strung with jealousy, just as wine was laced with poison and he instantly saw something there.

Her curly hair was tied back, exposing her high cheek boned face. Machiavelli searched it for answers. He yearned to be given the same striking smile Ezio had just received.

"I am coming with you."

With much reluctance, Ezio agreed to let Chiara come. Niccolo smiled and nodded. But he had hidden motives up his sleeve which would give him the answers he sought.

"I am too. I will need to translate the letter."

"I have interpreted Borgia letters before, my friend. What makes this so different?" asked Ezio, slightly disappointed that Machiavelli would tag along. A minute apart from Chiara felt like a lifetime but seeing her after that minute of absence awakened something happy inside him. Now Machiavelli would drown that happiness to the depths of his tauntingly contemptuous comebacks.

Niccolo nodded and smirked, "I am told this is handwritten by Cesare himself. The Borgias may pride themselves for their wealth and their power only. But one thing they do not lack is intelligence. Did you really think they are so unheeding that they would write words the way they are spoken? No, Ezio. They have a unique code which only a few people are informed of. Hence, why it needs to be translated to find his location."

With raised eyebrows, Chiara folded her arms and questioned, "You are one of these people lucky enough to know this code? How?"

She stood in a triangle with the two men, careful not to expose her desire of standing next to Ezio in front of Machiavelli. She could not put up with his bitter comments anymore than she could tolerate the distance between her and Ezio.

"As distrustful as you are of me, even to this day, you should be aware that my loyalty to the Order does not falter. And it never will. I have eyes everywhere. I have men stationed within the Borgias residences, ready to inform me of any news I wish to know."

"And yet, after having such an abundance of resources you failed to tell everybody where I was imprisoned-"

"That was different."

"-and tortured."

"Let me repeat. That was different."

"Different how, Niccolo? It would have been different if you had not known where I was being kept like a slave to your beloved Cesare. But you did. You were well-informed of where I was and for months you let me live there in pain!"

Machiavelli lowered his gaze in shame, fidgeting with his robes like he always did when he was nervous. A light breeze flew in through a window, making a candle flicker furiously which must have been burning since the night before. The only thing that would have made everything that much more haunting was if the hideout was dark and all that was visible in the candlelight was Chiara's angry face. The young woman stepped up to Machiavelli and daringly lifted his chin so he was forced to stare at her.

"I could not face the shame of having Ezio look at my broken body when he found me. I may have been relieved to see him, there is no doubt about that. But the shame, Niccolo. I felt so naked in front of him...like a corpse."

"Forgive my stupidity," he replied, with a penetrating stare.

"I almost killed myself," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

This time, the assassin spoke out. He took two strides forward, filling the space between Chiara and Machiavelli.

"What did you say?"

"I tried to kill myself after you brought me back. I had one drop of poison left. It was enough to end my life but I failed. I failed miserably."

"How...why would you even consider such an option?"

Afraid to look Ezio in the eyes, the young woman let herself be comforted by his concerned grip and stared accusingly at Machiavelli. "Ilario stopped me. He promised not to tell you because you would react like this. I had no reason left to live at that moment in time. Everything had been taken away from me; I had no family and no job. I had high prospects of a husband once, but what man would want a used item? All value of an item is lost when it's used. Especially when it comes to a woman and her integrity."

"I loved you." stated Machiavelli, moving to face Chiara, "I did it because I loved you and I wanted to save you. All so you would love me back. Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Don't!" cried the young woman. She raised a hand and slapped Machiavelli across his right cheek. She did not feel guilt nor sympathy despite the stinging sensation her palm telling her she should have apologised.

"Chiara...let us talk about this another time," intervened Ezio, pulled her towards him and away from Niccolo. She collapsed in his arms and sobbed.

"He deserves so much more, Ezio. So much more."

"I know, _mia cara_. I know. But now is not the right time."

Niccolo held his palm against the pain on his cheek and saw everything he needed to. Ezio and Chiara were neither acquaintances nor friends. They were lovers. As much as it broke his heart, he knew that Chira's perception of his cowardice would never change. He accepted this miserable end to his love life and walked outside, wrongfully hoping Chiara would stay behind. But she did not.

Donning a hooded cloak, she effortlessly blended in with the people, after all, she wasn't the most wanted man in the city. They all walked together through the half-ruined, once-imperial city, keeping to the shadows and slipping in and out of the crowds as fish hide in the rushes.

At last, they reached the bullring and took seats on crowded, shady side, watching for an hour as Cesare and his backup men dispatched three fearsome bulls. He had excellent skills but it did not dispel the other horrors of his character.

Ezio looked over his shoulder to the box of the President of the fight: there he recognized the vicious but compellingly beautiful face of Cesare's sister and lover, Lucrezia. He saw Chiara gulp and look down in despair. He knew what she was thinking before she could say it aloud and placed a hand on her thigh. She put on a smile and shook her head; Machiavelli was still in their presence.

"Leonardo's guns," he said.

"What? Where?" the assassin asked.

"There. The guards have them. They look lethal." He pointed to some Borgia guards.

"Leonardo was forced to work for Cesare on pain of death. His heart is not with his new master though who will never have the intelligence to control the Apple fully. We will get it back and Leonardo back with it." commented Machiavelli.

"I wish I could be so sure." Ezio stated.

"Do not wish and start to believe."

"I do not know what to believe anymore."

Ezio sat between Chiara and Machiavelli, acting as a wall. His instincts were going crazy for her. His mind tried to trace back to the times when Caterina had drove him wild with her scent; her oils smelling of vanilla and roses. But now his thoughts were immune to such thoughts.

He returned his attention to the bullfight. A feast was held for the courtesans and the fighters; it was quite a sight.

And then they went back to blending with the crowds that thronged the early-evening streets.

"Work your magic and take care not to draw any undue attention to yourself."

"Do I ever?" The assassin found himself needled by his ally's remarks. "In any case, I have my hidden blade."

"And the guards have their guns. Look, he is coming this way."

The Borgia courier looked shifty and inexperienced; something was not right. Ezio carried on elbowing people out of the way and when the young man's speed increased, the assassin ran after him through the alleyways of Rome.

"Leave me alone, assassin!" he yelled, trying to draw attention from the random civlians walking in the street.

In the end, Ezio tackled him in a street corner in front of an art shop.

"_Mio dio,_ what are you doing?" yelled the art merchant, peeking over the counter in disgust.

"It does not concern you. Go back to minding your business," ordered Ezio coldly; these stupid couriers made everything so much harder and exhausting.

"Where is the letter?" growled Ezio, keeping the young man pinned down. The courier struggled under the assassin and groaned instead.

"I will break a finger for every time you try to lift my weight."

"_Va bene!_ Left pouch."

Keeping one elbow dug into his back, Ezio untied the pouch and retrieved the envelope, only to see Cesare on horseback grinning wildly not far from him in broad daylight.

"If you are really desperate to fight me, old man," he yelled, "I am here! You could have just asked!"

The sunlight bounced off the magnificent gold brooches on his clothes and off his raven black hair.

"_Figlio di una cagna_ (son of a bitch)!" muttered the assassin, standing up in a hurry. The courier limped away quickly.

"I must run, Ezio. Another time, eh?"

This was the final time Cesare could escape him, he decided. Today was the day that _bastardo_ would meet his maker. As Cesare's horse began to trot away, Ezio realised that running would exhaust him even further and horseback was the only option.

A passing guard walking aimlessly had to be stabbed with the hidden blade and pulled off his horse. Ezio mounted the brown stallion, clucking his tongue and squeezing his legs so the horse would steer forward.

He followed his opponent on horseback through rural areas of Rome he had never passed through. The only thing which struck him as alarming were the number of buildings on fire. Fields which had flourished with crops that season were now burned to ashes. Cesare had started to wage a war on this city from the outside, unbeknownst to the Order as it was a swift decision.

He arrived at a castle where fire raged all around. Cesare, who had the upper hand by being metres ahead, managed to lock the doors as he entered the building.

Braving the flying wood and the Borgia guards, Ezio found a way up to the battlements where Cesare was looking down, proud of his so-called achievements.

"Cesare! The walls surround you. There is nowhere to run."

Ezio Auditore faced his archenemy, his heart thudding against his chest. This was one of the defining moments of his life. How long had he waited to rid Italy of this ruthless man?

"Come then, old man!" challenged the young Borgia.

His eyes gleamed maliciously and his grimace transformed into a supercilious smirk.

The two men battled for the first and last time, face-to-face. As the siege raged around them both, Cesare skilfully countered Ezio's harsh blows whilst Ezio expertly overpowered him, breaking off pieces of his armour.

As soon as Cesare felt deteriorated, he called in waves of bulky guards and vanished behind them. At one point, at least twenty of them swarmed onto the battlement, surrounding Ezio.

There was no doubt that Ezio would be able to defeat each of these men. It was as easy as counting to ten.

Once he was sure there was nobody left as he stood in the pile of armored bodies, he looked around for his opponent.

"You can come out now."

"Will you ever give up?" asked Cesare, walking through the tower door on Ezio's right side. He came out, sword drawn defensively.

"Never," he stated, hastily grabbing the young man by the collar, hidden blade at his throat. To his surprise, Cesare didn't try to fight back.

"I wouldn't be so sure, if I were you."

A woman suddenly yelled, as if on cue.

"Ezio!"

Keeping his iron grip on Cesare, he swiftly turned around to see her lying on the ground, face black and blue with bruises, trying to crawl closer to him. A masked man, presumably Federico, stamped on her hand, the bones cracking horribly. Ezio winced as she screamed out. She stopped crawling.

"You want the girl, don't you? She won't be much use if she's gone." said Cesare.

"You're a dead man."

Cesare chuckled shakily. "No. She's a dead woman. Unless you let me go."

A rush of heat flushed Ezio's cheeks. His breathing became slightly heavier. This man was the devil's child himself. What could he do? Spare him, like he did with the Pope only to regret it later? Or risk it and save the woman?

"Don't tempt me." he replied.

"Do it..." ordered Cesare, addressing Federico. The man nodded and pulled out a harquebusier, aiming it at the woman point blank. "...my father, the Pope, always said you were too good to be an Auditore. You were always a Borgia in his eyes. Do him proud."

And with that final statement and a low whimper from the woman, an ear-splitting shot shattered the purple sunset sky.

"No!" yelled Ezio, watching as the gun fell to the stone floor.

Before he could say another word, Federico peered over the battlement, eyeing a bale of hay at the bottom. He clambered over the wall and did a leap of faith, disappearing from sight.

Heart racing and feeling frantic, Ezio didn't know where to look.

"Ezio!" cried Chiara softly. He ran to her and picked up her blood-covered body in his arms.

"No, no! Stay with me. You..you will be alright. You must." he stammered.

"It...it hurts."

"I know, mia cara."

"Ezio, I..."

She muttered an apology before suddenly becoming limp and lifeless in his arms. An ache took over his heart but before the sorrow could form tears, the body disappeared into thin air.

"_Ma cosa_?" he whispered, turning his head to see Cesare with the Apple in his outstretched palm. His eyes gleamed with arrogance and pure narcissism which even his indulgent father could not feign.

"I had never considered you to be so gullible, old man. Were you not aware of the illusions this beauty could create?"

The assassin said nothing, staring blankly at his arms where moments earlier, Chiara was lying there dead as real as day. She was no ghost or a figment of his imagination. He felt the beat of her heart slowing down. He felt the warm pool of blood rushing out of her small but deadly wound. She was there.

"You see, with a little help from your friend Leonardo da Vinci, I was able to work out the mechanics of this mystical artefact. I must say he was reluctant to teach me at first, but we all know that a little pain can go a long way in this business."

Ezio balled his fists in fury and deep down inside, a part of him was relieved to know Chiara was still alive. The Apple had created a dangerously vivid illusion, mixing his deepest dreads with reality but now that he had realised such a trick, he would be able to overcome its strength.

"Harm anybody else, Cesare and I will-"

"You will what? Kill me? Oh, my dear man. Can't you see the evidence with your own eyes? I have the Apple. I am its owner and as long as it is in my possession, I am invincible. Not even you, the almighty Auditore, can defeat me. It really is a shame it had to end this way, but as the French bastards say '_c'est la vie_' (that is life)".

* * *

**Hello, here you go. You know what to do! Review! #IloveitwhenIrhyme **

**~Mocha**


	25. Chapter 25

Cesare came forward and got the first blow in, his right fist swinging furiously at Ezio's head. The assassin was a fraction too late in ducking under the punch and as Cesare's knuckles brushed his temple, he staggered backwards. This gave Cesare a cause to cry out in triumph.

"_Fortuna_ will not fail me! I will kill you. I will kill everyone who stands in my way. The throne is mine."

"It _was_ yours, Cesare. Wanting something does not give you the right to take it, nor does it give you the right to call something yours."

The Templar loosed his blade in response to Ezio recovering his composure and drawing his own sword. Both men circled on the parapet, engrossed in the headlong spate of swordplay until Ezio's sword bounced away and the only way to hold position was using the bracer to deflect the harsh blows.

"I will lead mankind into a new world. A place long rid of your antiquated systems, rules and hierarchies."

"And bring tyranny along with it? It sounds like there is a lack of attention to detail."

"Do not mock me, old man. I know what I want and unfortunately, you will not live long enough to see me acquire it."

"Cesare, you are walking on the path of self-destruction. You will continue to make irreparable mistakes which will inevitably lead to your downfall."

"I do not make mistakes, old man! I am Cesare Borgia! And I _will_ be the future King of Italia!"

Striking an unexpected and cowardly blow, Cesare fuelled his anger on slashing his sword recklessly. Ezio was quick enough to parry and catching Cesare off-balance, he snatched the young man's wrist. The sword was sent clattering to the flagstones below.

Ezio slashed at his wrists, cutting into the tendons so deep that it hung limply. The unimaginable pain left Cesare in a distorted grimace.

"You are finished, Cesare. _Requiescat in pace_."

A sense of satisfaction tensed Ezio's muscles noticing that his opponent was standing inches away from edge.

"You cannot kill me. No man can murder me!"

"Then I will leave you in the hands of Fate," replied Ezio, seizing his enemy and throwing him off the battlements.

Cesare Borgia descended onto the cobblestones a hundred feet below. Ezio did not look down as it would cause his consciousness to topple remembering the way he had looked down at Mario's head staring back at him with empty eyes those many months ago. Instead, he exhaled deeply, embracing the relief which shook him from head to toe; the strenuous fight against the Borgia was over.

He returned to the hideout later that night, almost collapsing from exhaustion at the door way. Chiara was kneeled on the floor, praying. Her silhouette in the soft candlelight made her look a fallen angel. He chuckled with glee at her reaction; her eyes growing wide with worry, her eyebrows furrowing at the bruises on his face, her warm hands bringing the rush of blood to his cheeks and finally her soft lips on his, eradicating all the questions lingering on his mind.

"It is done. Cesare is dead and the weight from my heart has gone."

"That is great news, Ezio. I am delighted," she replied, biting her lip.

The assassin had lived long enough to be able to smell the fear and disappointment in people; Chiara had failed to look deadpan.

"Your face tells me otherwise. Are you not pleased with the outcome? The fight is over, Chiara. The feared reign of the Borgia has died along with the men of that family. I can…_we_ can live in peace now. We can move to Milan or Florence like we had discussed. Or even Venezia. I promise you, it is breath-taking during Carnevale and…"

Ezio stopped babbling mid-sentence. Chiara's teeth dug into her lips even deeper in an attempt to hold back tears.

"You are not happy. Tell me what is troubling you."

Chiara's doe eyes clenched shut, squeezing out tears as she kissed Ezio and pulled him closer by his collar. The kiss was forcefully sweet except when salt-water crept inside their mouths.

"I do not have time for sentiments, sister."

The same voice which had begged Ezio to help on a small rock back in Forli so many years ago came from behind him; the same one which had whispered sweet, sensual nothings in his ear during their nights together and betrayed his love out of politics and greed.

"Caterina, just…just give me one more minute," begged Chiara, keeping her forehead pressed against Ezio's. She breathed in his scent; a mixture of sweat, blood and allure, fearing it would be the last time she would be able to do so.

Protectively, Ezio grabbed Chiara's wrist, pulling her behind him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded angrily. How dare she even think about stepping foot on assassin soil with her dirty lies?

"I am here to take Chiara back home to Milan. Away from all of this," replied Caterina, her renowned scorn untainted by the situation she would find herself in. Frankly, she had not changed at all in the company of the Borgia and looked as bewitching as ever.

"_Stronzate _(bullshit)! She is not going anywhere, especially with you."

"I have plenty of good reasons to explain myself. Firstly, you have killed Cesare. I had predicted you would do so today and now he is out of the equation; that _bastardo_ deserved it and I have you to thank for his death."

"Do not think for one second that I did this for you. My feelings for you disappeared the day your ugly side was revealed. Do not revel in your beauty, Caterina. It will be your downfall and soon all of Italia will mock you, not Lucrezia. I did this for retribution…for Chiara's happiness."

"Even so," sneered the redhead, feeling a slight pang of jealousy at the affection Ezio should have been showing her, not her sister, "It has given me the freedom to go back to my children. _Grazie mille_, Ezio."

Ezio looked irritable, too exhausting to even glare.

"Secondly, you are weakened from the fight. I say you have no more strength left in you to refuse me or even fight back. I have guards in the back rooms on their toes, just waiting to kill the 'almighty' assassin. Do not appease them, Ezio."

"And thirdly?"

"Chiara has agreed to come with me herself."

The assassin dropped Chiara's hand as if it was burning coal and whirled around to face her, "Is this true?"

The young woman replayed her sister's demands in her mind, before Ezio had arrived. Caterina had burst through the door with eight guards and each of them stationed themselves in a room before her sister even had a chance to assess the situation. In a panic, she engaged in a fight with the guard standing next to Caterina, successfully defeating him with her dagger. He was concealed under the darkness in the far side of the room. Caterina did not fight and merely want to talk. Then, she made demands with utmost aggression and blackmailed Chiara into agreeing to go with her. It was a clichéd situation - if Chiara did not go back to their parents house in Milan, she would make the guards kill Ezio. Of course, on any given day of the week, Ezio would be able to kill a whole legion of guards blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back but Caterina had timed this perfectly. She had chosen the time when he would be at his weakest but happiest. All he needed now was rest. Wounds were evident on one of his leg and his shoulder.

Hardening her heart, she lied, "Yes. It is true. I want to go back to Milan…but not with you. With Caterina."

"I do not understand."

"I cannot live like this! Every moment with you is a living nightmare. Everywhere I turn, there are eyes on us. There are guards examining haystacks constantly."

Chiara knew her reasons to leave sounded stupid and petty but she was not a compulsive liar; lying to Ezio was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

"But that will change now, _mi amore_. The Borgia are gone. They will have no legacy - nothing good to remember them by except their wickedness. The Papacy will elect a new Pope soon and maybe even the leaders of the other cities can come together to save Rome from being burnt to ashes. There is nothing more to fear."

Chiara fought her mentality to keep it all together and concoct further excuses.

"You are an Assassin. You have enemies lurking in the shadows somewhere. You have defeated just one of many."

"I assure you, any other enemy is the least of my worries and can be taken care of swiftly."

He was just as stubborn as I am, thought Chiara. She smiled solemnly.

"It is not enough for me, Ezio. You cannot give me what I want. I despise the life you lead and your past. It is too much for someone like me to ignore on a daily basis."

"I had always imagined you as a woman of simplicity, Chiara. Nothing disconcerts you except the feelings of others. What about my feelings? And your own feelings? I am in love with you. That should be enough for you to leave this behind and start anew with me."

"But it is not," lied Chiara, "And I cannot bear to see you be so heroic - for this country and for something as trivial as love."

"I shall have to prove it to you then. Bring on the guards hiding like cowards in the rooms. I can fight them all for you. Only then will you be sensible and open your eyes."

"There is no need for that," replied Chiara backing away from Ezio's pleading gaze towards Caterina.

"But I love you, damn it! You cannot leave like this. Such a rash decision is uncalled for!"

It felt like someone was twisting a knife in her gut, "_Arrividerci_, Ezio."

Caterina yelled for the guards to come out, a smirk plastered on her face as she jeered, "See how much valuable time and energy you can save without involving a sword and a fist?"

"Please stay," he begged, ignoring the relentless, clammy hands locked around his arms pulling him away from Chiara. She didn't even bother turning her head one last time for fear that she would cling to him for dear life, crying, kissing and suffocating him. The cathartic sensation they were so accustomed to feeling had been torn from them the minute Chiara stepped outside the hideout and neither of them could foresee whether it would ever return.

**The end.**

* * *

**_Does it feel like an ending? I think so. I know it seems like a slightly rushed ending; apologies. It's 25 chapters, what else do you want? I'm kidding._**

**_I have a feeling I have the patience for one more chapter - maybe an epilogue of how they're both doing after the separation? Let me know if convenient. If inconvenient, I will end up doing it any way since I haven't concluded Federico's involvement in all of this! (Sherlock fans will get that reference) Review, please and I hope you enjoyed reading this! _**


	26. Epilogue

**~~~Epilogue~~~**

* * *

It was the day before Midsummer's Day. There was a certain serenity to the city of Florence which Ezio had long forgotten. He saw a ghost of his youth sprinting towards him, silk ribbon in hand an impish smile much like his own which could make girls swoon.

He moved out of the way quick enough for the young man to dart in an alley while the guards swore to themselves for losing him.

"_Buongiorno, amici miei _(good morning, my friends)" said the assassin, addressing Niccolo and Leonardo conversing on a bench. La Volpe was stood beside them, chattering.

"Ezio!" cried Leonardo, hurrying off the bench to embrace his friend warmly. He looked a little older but had lost none of his vigorous enthusiasm,

"It has been a long time. Over four years in fact", replied Ezio, facing the three men.

"I have immersed myself in the arts, Ezio. Science intrigues me most; it has swayed my heart and I am to leave for Amboise soon."

"Then I have no choice but to let you go, old friend."

Machiavelli smiled genuinely, longer than he had in a while, "Then we must all part our ways." He had contacted Chiara after she left, making sure to resolve any issues between them and move on. Now he was sure nobody held a grudge against him.

"How so?" asked Leonardo.

"I am staying here; I still have that book to write."

"What do you intend to call it?" asked Ezio.

"_The Prince_."

"If it is about me, make it short, will you?"

Machiavelli grinned, "I would not have it any other way."

"I must tend to my thieves. The number of guilds across the country are growing and managing them, along with _La Volpe Addormentata_ is hard work."

La Volpe looked older than ever with wrinkles occupying his face and his neck much like Leonardo's. Despite age, he had not lost his spark and humour.

"Whenever you need my help brewing some _Trebbiano,_ drop me a message. God knows you desperately need to bring in expensive wines."

"Give me the money and resources to do so and the job is yours!" replied the old thief, chuckling afterwards.

"Fear not, I was heading to Milano tonight; I have money waiting for me at the Medici bank there. Claudia kindly offered it in exchange for a gift as will not be able to meet with me tomorrow. I will reconsider your offer then."

"What is the occasion?"

Ezio shook his head attempting to frown,"It is my birthday tomorrow. Leonardo, you had promised to design a large birthday pageant for me once..."

The polymath's hand flew to his mouth, "How could I forget? Forgive me, friend."

"Not to worry, Leonardo. This final meeting is the greatest gift I could hope for at this age."

The four men realised it was time. They rose as one and embraced each other solemnly for the final time.

Later that evening, Ezio approached a stable where he and Machiavelli had hired horses what seemed like a lifetime ago. The stables were clean and clearly thriving in business now that the whole district had been taken off Borgia control. He wheeled his horse around galloped out of the town. Once he was in the countryside, gloom filled his heart. The semblance of Florence and the happiness of its residents had an effect on him temporarily but the isolation of the rural countryside snatched it away from him. When the town buildings were just mere specks in the distance, he knew he was now nothing more than a lonely, middle-aged man who had been given many chances at love and missed it. He thought of Chiara and everything that could have been.

"Ezio," growled a hoarse voice behind him as he rode closer to Milan. There was nothing but large blades of grass surrounding him.

Instinctively, he leapt off the chestnut horse and twisted on his heel. Federico was on his hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood as he came forward. He looked around for any signs of a pursuer.

"Big brother…"

Federico was no threat and as soon as Ezio realised this, he knelt down beside him, examining his wound. He had lost a great deal of blood.

"I do not have much time."

"But I have so many questions."

"I wish I had given you answers sooner, _fratellino _(little brother). I regret not doing so. This life you are leading…stop doing so. It will…it will be the death of you."

"The assassin in me died when Cesare's died. Tell me why you are here and not burnt to ashes at the bottom of a river like father and Petruccio. You owe me that."

"My allegiance with the Templar Order was merely temporary. I had joined Uberto Alberti before the executions took place. He promised me my life if I tampered with the evidence you gave him."

"Your life in exchange for someone as innocent as Petruccio? He was a _child_, Federico. Not even at the brink of adulthood!"

Tremors shook Federico's body as he coughed up blood, "Let me…let me finish. I was arrogant at that age, Ezio. I wanted to be much more than a banker or an assassin. Neither of those positions…would give me the riches I had desired."

"You sound just like Cesare. Father and mother raised you better than that."

"I..I know. But I will be dead in a matter of minutes. I have felt nothing but remorse. Grant a dying man his wish of being forgiven by his little brother." His skin was cold.

"I am not sure whether you deserve such kindness from me."

"I beg of you, Ezio."

"Every man is mortal, every life bounds to an end but certain things will never change. Remember that quote of wisdom?"

"I am mortal. I have changed. Death has perched itself on my shoulder just as an…eagle perches on a ledge. It has taken me much...much too long to realise my mistakes."

Federico wheezed, spluttering even more blood; his time was coming to an end.

"Wait, who did this to you?"

"Nobody important…a guard. I got...I got into a serious fight."

"You are forgiven. _Requiescat in pace, fratello."_

Federico breathed his last and the little fragment of light disappeared from his eyes.

Ezio's heart hung heavy with sorrow and picking up Federico's body, he dragged his feet along to a weed-less patch of soil. Federico is supposed to be at the bottom of a river, he thought through gritted teeth. He spent the next few hours digging up the soil with the ineffective tools he had and buried his brother; a dagger and Federico's sword.

Ezio then tied his horse to a huge tree, breathing in the cold air beneath its shade. He fell asleep, crippled by the eventful day.

The next morning, Ezio woke up feeling lonelier than ever. He silenced his rumbling stomach with an apple and arduously proceeded to ride into Milan. The sun shined bright. Architectural beauty in the form of churches and villas transcended above him as he walked through the _piazza del mercato centrale _(central market place). He was now passing through a flower market; _Mercato dei Fiori e delle Piante. _The vibrant colours and organic smells overwhelmed him. Stalls were bursting with typical Northern plants such as spring pasque flowers and pansies. Other flowers peeked through the rows of leaves such as red lilies, bougainvillea and roses.

A particular set of lilac-coloured flowers caught his attention. The bellflowers took him back almost five years ago to when he had rescued Chiara and attempted to flirt with her regarding Lucrezia's same flowers. A smile eased onto his lips. He wondered where she lived now. It would not be far since he was in her hometown. Unless she had married and moved away. He would not be surprised; a smart and diligent woman like her would attract many suitors. She would have bore that lucky man beautiful children with soft features like hers. Getting a grip on reality again, he moved away from the flowers only to collide with a small child who slammed into his knee and tumbled backward.

"_Attenzione, piccolo _(careful, little one)," cautioned Ezio, crouching down and giving the boy a helping hand. He seemed lost, looking around for someone.

The little boy had cherub cheeks and dark brown locks. He had a striking set of eyes which were pale grey, almost like marble.

"_Scusi!"_

Ezio looked amused, "No worries, _bambino_. What is your name? Are you lost?"

"Matteo!"

There was sharp intake of breath from Ezio the moment he heard her concerned voice.

"That must be your mother."

"Mama!" cried the little boy in glee. He turned and ran into his mother's arms who held him tight against her chest, cradling his head.

"What happened to you? I thought I lost you." she asked him frantically, searching his face for any injury.

Matteo simply pointed towards a man in the distance. Before she got a good look at Ezio, he turned around to hide his face, aware of his heartbeat all of a sudden. She advanced towards her comely-looking saviour with her son in hand.

"_Grazie_ for finding my son. I owe you my life."

"That would be the second time," he replied, turning around. She looked mesmeric. Her figure was full; motherhood had obviously been kind to her.

His voice left her in a state of inconceivable thought. She whispered his name, barely audible, "Ezio…"

"Chiara," he replied in the same manner. He regained his composure quicker than he had anticipated and asked coolly and directly, "Are you married?"

Her breath caught in her throat, "No."

"How old is he?"

She said nothing, parting her lips slightly and shutting them again.

"How old is he, Chiara?" asked Ezio, trying to make her look at him but she avoided his gaze for fear of her knees going weak.

"Four."

"Four years old," he repeated, "Is he…"

"_Si_," she replied biting the bullet which almost made her faint, "He is your son."

* * *

**_And that, my lovely readers, is it. You decide whether they end up together or not. Caterina's out of the picture for now. I originally intended her to go psycho and stay confined in Chiara's care but it would be a bit too long-winded; not that it isn't already. D'oh!  
I must say I'm quite upset to see it end. You guys have kept me going with this for months and you cannot imagine how grateful I am for your support._**

**_I owe it to all of you followers, readers, favouriters and guests for keeping me motivated. Thank you...truly._**

**_I hope you enjoyed treading along the path of Chiara and Ezio's story as much as I did. _**

**_~Tanny_**


End file.
